Patricia Potter

by Rainbow

  Cam looked stunned. The Underground Railroad had become part of his life. Every man and woman he helped, every slave he assisted to freedom, had helped him piece back together his own dignity. “The Lucky Lady…”

  Quinn turned to him, his mouth grim. “There’s been questions about the boat. I have a feeling we’ve run this hand almost to the limit.”

  “But the Railroad…”

  “We can still help out West. Provide employment for those who escape, continue sending funds. I don’t know anything about farming or ranching, but I do know gambling and entertainment. I’ve been thinking about building a hotel in San Francisco. The West is the future of this country. And neither the damned slave catchers nor the Fugitive Slave Act have much influence there.”

  “But it’s still the law.”

  “Perhaps it is, but from everything I’ve heard, the Californians are damned independent and don’t like slavery a whit. And who in the hell is going that far for one man accused of violating a law that’s hated?”

  “Two men,” Cam corrected, and Quinn knew Cam had just decided to go with him.

  “Two men and a woman,” he amended.

  “And if there’s war, Capt’n?”

  Quinn’s frown deepened. “I doubt it will affect California much. It’s too far away.”

  “And you?”

  “Damn if I know. I want peace. Dear God, I want some peace.” His voice was ragged with emotion.

  “The captain of the Lucky Lady?” Cam’s voice was half searching, half doubtful. He had never seen this side of the captain before. He had assumed for a very long time that Quinn Devereux enjoyed the games he played, but perhaps, like him, they had been only a diversion, a neat white bandage over wounds that hadn’t completely healed.

  “Most especially the captain of the Lucky Lady,” Quinn replied dryly.

  They came to a stop outside Miss Sophie’s Parlor, and Quinn hesitated. “I need to talk to her. Do you want to go with me?”

  Cam studied him. “Where’s Miss Meredith?”

  “Still on the Ohio Star. It’s docked here overnight, and I thought she would be more comfortable there rather than a hotel.” He didn’t add that it would also be more respectable, but he knew it was. Meredith was a frequent traveler on the riverboats and no one thought much of it, but to stay in a hotel alone was something else. And at the moment appearances were important.

  In the morning, the captain of the Ohio Star would believe she was simply transferring to one of the Mississippi boats. Quinn had already arranged for her trunk to be picked up and stored. Within a week he hoped to have her on the Lucky Lady, with no one the wiser about the missing days.

  Quinn saw the slightly amused look on Cam’s face and understood the intent of his question. “That’s not why I’m here.”

  Cam smiled slowly. “I’ll wait then.”

  Quinn gave him a sour glare, and they climbed the steps, Cam obediently several steps behind.

  Quinn asked for an audience with Sophie, and almost immediately he was ushered into a private office.

  “Quinn,” Sophie said delightedly. “You look much better than the last time I saw you. There’s actually some life in those eyes.”

  “The dead was not so dead,” he replied cryptically, a wry smile on his lips.

  Sophie remembered some of the drunken rambling of two weeks earlier. Quinn had said “murderer” several times over when she had tried to put him to bed. There had also been something about a lady but he had mentioned no names. Even drunk, Quinn Devereux had been discreet. “I’m glad,” she said simply.

  “I need your help.”

  “Anything,” she said simply.

  “Cam and I are going after a slave in Kentucky. It’s a long story why, but there could be trouble. I have some letters I want to leave with you, and a package for my brother. If anything happens to me, I want you to see that Jamison gets them. One letter clears him from any involvement in the Underground Railroad and leaves ownership of the Lucky Lady to him. The other goes to my brother, along with the package.”

  Sophie nodded. She had learned a long time ago not to ask for explanations from Quinn.

  “Anything else?”

  “If a woman who calls herself Merry ever comes here, do everything you can to help her.”

  “Does she know about me?”

  “No. Not yet. But she’s associated with Levi. I’m going to give her this address in case there’s trouble.”

  “I think I’m envious,” she said.

  “Now Sophie, you know you never mix with the customers,” he teased.

  Sophie was surprised at his grin, at how attractive it was. He had smiled before, but it had always been tinged with mockery and a certain remoteness, never real warmth. “Now you might have been an exception,” she laughed. “You never gave me a chance.”

  The corners of his eyes creased. “I never thought I had one,” he said with a charm that made her head spin and blood run faster.

  “I would like to see this lady who is so adept at miracles. Rising from the dead. Taming our infamous captain.”

  He was suddenly serious. “I hope you don’t, Sophie.”

  She understood. His “Merry” wouldn’t come here unless there was trouble. “I wish you and your lady Godspeed.”

  Quinn leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You’ll take care of the letters?”

  “Of course,” she reassured him. “Would you like a drink before you go?”

  “Is there any left after my last visit?” he queried lightly.

  “Not much,” she retorted, “but for special friends…”

  “Some other time, Sophie.”

  She nodded, a trace of wistfulness in her eyes. He was, she knew, saying good-bye. She liked him. She liked him very much indeed. And she would miss him. But as he turned and left, part of her was pleased to observe that some of the grim cynicism had left his face and his step was lighter.

  Cam sat in the kitchen and talked to one of the cooks while he ate hot bread. He knew everyone in the establishment and felt comfortable with all of them. It was certain that they were aware of Sophie’s involvement in aiding fugitives.

  There were quiet knocks in early morning hours at the servants’ entrance—knocks of poorly dressed and fearful figures. If slave hunters came searching, a new woman might suddenly appear among the ladies, and if she seemed nervous, it was explained that she was fresh to this oldest of all professions. If the newcomer was a man, he was quickly employed as a stablehand. And sometimes people seemed to disappear completely, as if by magic. Only very few, including Cam, knew there was a secret passage from the basement of the building to a small hidden room in the stable.

  Although no one was told of these occurrences when they first came to work at Sophie’s Parlor, each new employee gradually sensed what was going on, but by then, their loyalty to Sophie and to each other was usually complete. Sophie chose her girls and servants very, very carefully. She cared about her employees, and they cared about her. And they took a certain satisfaction in the quiet conspiracy.

  So Cam felt it unnecessary to pretend when he came here. He had always enjoyed his occasional visits, at least until lately when Sarah had started to look at him with wistful eyes that said she wanted more from him than he could give.

  Before he met Daphne, he had harbored no desire for permanent attachment. Like the captain, he had carried so much bitterness, so much hate, that he believed there was room for nothing else in his life. And then that hate had been slowly replaced by a fervor to help those who, like himself, had been helpless for so long.

  “Cam.” Sarah’s voice was soft and inviting, and Cam straightened up quickly. He had hoped she was upstairs, that his presence would go unnoticed. He had stayed only because he had wanted to walk back with the captain, because he had more to say to him, even something to ask.

  He turned toward the door where Sarah was standing nervously. Sarah had been too pretty for decent work; no woman would hire a maid wh
o was bound to attract the males of the family. She had been unable to find work and finally ended up at Sophie’s. Cam knew she had found it not altogether disagreeable, even enjoyable. And Cam had liked her, had thoroughly enjoyed his brief times with her, but there had never been anything more between them, even less when she had turned possessive and hinted at marriage months earlier. He had not returned, not until today.

  “Cam.” She spoke again, and held out her hand to him. To refuse her would be to humiliate her, and Cam didn’t want to do that. He hesitated, then stood and went to her.

  “Let’s go upstairs, Cam,” she said softly. “It’s been so long.”

  He nodded, knowing it was time to talk, time to tell her he wouldn’t be back. He followed her up the steps, along a hallway lined with rooms to one he recognized. When they were inside, she turned to him and stood up on tiptoes, raising her lips to be kissed.

  Cam put his large hands on her shoulders and shook his head slowly. “I won’t be coming back, Sarah,” he said.

  Her eyes narrowed, but the practiced soft smile remained on her lips. “I…didn’t make you happy?”

  “You made me happy,” he said with a smile of remembrance, “but…I might marry soon.”

  Sarah went stock still. “But I thought…”

  He watched the dismay in her eyes turn to fury. He had not expected it. She had always been passionate, even moody, but there had also been a wistfulness in her manner that he had read as gentleness. There was nothing gentle in her eyes now. There was, instead, a veritable storm, and he knew with sudden sickening certainty that he had misjudged her. He tried to remember everything he had ever said to her, but knew there had never been any promise. He never made promises.

  “You can’t,” she said, the certainty in her voice making him wary.

  “Sarah,” he said. “I never promised…”

  “But you did,” she cried. “You did with your eyes and your body and—”

  “No, girl,” he said softly.

  “I was just a…whore to you?”

  Cam didn’t know how to answer. Because she was right. That was how he thought of her; that was what she was. He had liked her, had sympathized with her when she had said she intended to start her own respectable business, yet there was a sensuousness about Sarah, a sexual aura that had told him she was not here altogether against her will.

  He tried to lie gently. “No, Sarah.” But it did no good. Cam saw the eyes widen with realization, then anger. And something else. Cam didn’t know what it was, but it worried him. There was something frightening about it.

  He heard his name being called and recognized the captain’s voice. “I must go,” he said. He took some bills from a pocket in his well-worn trousers and set them on a bureau. “I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it. He closed the door softly as he left.

  But worry nagged at him as he met the captain in the foyer. And the captain recognized it.

  “Something wrong?” Quinn asked the question quietly, his brows knitted together at Cam’s frown.

  “I don’t know. Sarah…was…” He shrugged. “I don’t know. She was acting strangely.”

  “Sophie told me weeks ago she hoped to marry you.”

  “Damned if I know why. I never said anything.”

  “She’ll get over it.”

  Cam wasn’t so sure. The captain hadn’t seen her eyes. But there was nothing he could do about it now. And he had other concerns.

  When the captain had confided in him about his proposed marriage to Meredith Seaton, he had reassessed his own position with Daphne. If the captain was willing to risk it, then why not he?

  But still the uncertainty was there. Everything was new to Daphne, and she should have time to adjust to it, to know what she really wanted. He didn’t want her out of gratitude. He was only too aware of his sometimes mixed reactions to his own benefactor. He didn’t think he could stand her coming to him out of obligation.

  He felt, rather than saw, the captain’s eyes on him, studying him, appraising him in that curiously detached way.

  “Don’t wait, Cam,” he urged with a small smile. “We may not have that much time.”

  Cam shrugged. Damn, but the man could read his mind. “Perhaps the next trip,” he said. “She needs time to get used to the idea of being free to make choices.”

  “Choices,” Quinn said, tasting the word. “I wonder if we ever really make them ourselves.” His tone was thoughtful and even a little melancholy, and Cam darted a quick look at him. Despite the smile on Captain Devereux’s lips when he had mentioned his plan to marry Meredith, there was still something wary about him, almost as though he expected disaster of some kind. The suspicion lurked in the back of the captain’s eyes, like some shadowy presence.

  “It seems you’ve made one,” Cam observed.

  “It does seem that way,” Quinn answered enigmatically. The statement ended the conversation, but Cam noticed a certain tension in Captain Devereux’s body, and in the glint in the dark blue eyes before the familiar curtain shielded their emotions.

  Sarah stared at the door as it closed quietly, signaling the end to every dream she’d ever had.

  Freedom had meant nothing but misery to her. She had been safe and secure with Mr. and Mrs. Hitchcock. When they had moved to Cairo from Kentucky, they had brought her with them. Although technically a slave, she had always been treated as a member of the household. She was taught to read the only book allowed in the house: the Bible. And she was taught to write by copying scriptures.

  But then Mrs. Hitchcock sickened and died, and Mr. Hitchcock, who had loved his wife dearly, seemed to lose his will to live and succumbed just six months later to a fever. Sarah was freed in his will. She also inherited everything, but it was very little. He had left Kentucky because his business there had failed. His new business in Cairo had been no more successful. There were only debts.

  Sarah was fifteen. Suddenly and for the first time in her life she had no place to go, and no one to care for her. Freedom became a curse. She tried to find a position, but she had no references and she had seen the quick dismissal in women’s eyes as they ran over her figure and face. Finally, in desperation, she went to Miss Sophie’s, although it took every ounce of her courage to do so. Mr. Hitchcock had been a God-fearing man who insisted on the highest morals and held out the specter of hell for those who deviated from The Path.

  But hunger and cold were powerful forces, and she finally, bitterly, ventured to a place where she knew her face and body would not be disadvantages. To her surprise, the proprietress had turned out to be very kind, very sympathetic. When Miss Sophie learned Sarah’s age, she had merely asked whether she would like to be a maid. Sarah quickly accepted.

  Over the next three years, Sarah battled internally with herself, with Mr. Hitchcock’s teachings and with her growing fascination for the women who worked at Miss Sophie’s. They were all kind to her, and she noticed that many went on to make respectable marriages. All of them, it seemed, had had some kind of tragedy in their lives, whether it was abandonment as a child, or some horrible abuse. But her mind kept telling her they were evil, and her living and working here was punishment for…admiring them.

  When she was eighteen, one of the customers took a fancy to her. He kept coming back offering a great deal of money if Sarah would go upstairs with him. Sophie had said it was her decision.

  The money was a fortune to Sarah. Enough to go away and start a respectable business, and she finally agreed. The man, knowing she was a virgin, had been both gentle and passionate, and Sarah discovered she had a craving for something other than survival. Once aroused, her appetite became insatiable. And she decided that it was time to join the other girls.

  But all the time, a part of her brain was remembering Mr. Hitchcock and his vision of hell. She kept telling herself that she would do as others at Miss Sophie’s did: find a man to marry. Then Cam started visiting, and she fixed in her heart that he was the one who would take her from sin. Once m
arried, she was sure that the devil in her would go away, that God would forgive her. Cam was a wonderful lover, and she wouldn’t need anyone else; the constant, painful appetite in her would go away.

  She awaited each of his visits with anticipation and she planned for them. She always wore her prettiest negligee. Painfully, she forced herself to rein in her own desire and take her time in arousing him, in giving him pleasure while she ached inside for him to take her quickly and roughly. She played the wronged victim to the hilt, her eyes filling with tears as she told him about being alone and fearful in a world of uncertainty and terror.

  And she did feel terror, only not for the reasons she gave him. The terror was in her soul. Day by day, she was being ripped apart by the war being waged between her body and her mind. Her body seemed to have an endless need for gratification, while her mind told her it was wrong and she would go to hell for it.

  She came to believe that Cam was her only hope for salvation. And now he was gone. He thought of her as nothing but a whore. The anger in her, anger that had been directed for so long at herself, swirled in her head. And as it became more powerful, the fury sought vengeance. Cam had made her feel important, had given her hope, and now he was discarding her. It was he who was evil, and she had to punish him.

  But how? How could she do anything to someone as strong as he?

  He always came with another man, a white man named Devereux, and she had heard whispers about him, that he was in some way involved in helping fugitives escape. Sophie was too, she knew, but she wasn’t prepared to hurt Sophie, who had always been kind to her. It was Cam who needed punishment. The fact that Cam was helping fugitive slaves meant nothing to her. She told herself she had been happier as a slave; there had been someone to care about her, to take care of her, and tell her what to do. It was when she was free that the devil had taken over.

  Her fists clenched, she resolved that Cam would pay for his betrayal. She would find a way to expose him. And he would suffer as she was suffering.