Patricia Potter

by Rainbow

  Chapter 23

  MEREDITH WATCHED Quinn walk from a carriage to the gangplank below, just as she knew he had watched her board in Cincinnati a week before, or was it a lifetime.

  It was very early, just after dawn, and only she and several of the officers were on deck. She’d awakened early from a restless sleep, eager to see him, eager for this day.

  She questioned whether she would ever get used to his striking handsomeness: the thick midnight-black hair and the fine evening-blue eyes framed by black brows and lashes. He wore his usual black clothes; that alone made him stand out in a crowd of more gaily dressed travelers.

  Meredith wondered how her heart could bear the weight of the happiness she felt when she thought of him, or saw him.

  Or bear the loneliness of being without him. She’d had a taste of that last night, and she’d tossed and turned, remembering the quiet bliss of drifting off to sleep in his arms.

  There would be other such nights alone. There would have to be—for his safety and for her own.

  So she memorized his every feature as he strode toward the boat and then her eyes turned slightly toward Cam, who was at his side. The confident man she had seen in Levi’s kitchen no longer held his shoulders straight, but slumped as he dragged a foot. The black man’s eyes, which she knew could be as wary as his companion’s, were turned now toward the ground, no longer challenging as they had been in Cincinnati. For the first time, she thought how difficult it must be for him, for such a proud man to act so servile. But then they were all playing difficult roles, although she imagined hers the easiest. She recalled seeing the regret in Quinn’s eyes as he spoke of Brett’s disappointment over his gambling. She’d never regretted her family’s disapproval and, although she sometimes chafed at being unable to speak her mind, she compensated through tactless Meredith’s wont to sting pomposity with outwardly innocent remarks.

  How much longer?

  It would be wonderful to give up that role. But she had hidden behind it so long, she sometimes wondered where the real Meredith started. Still it would be a fine thing to paint whatever she wanted. She shivered with delight when she thought of all the glorious opportunities in the West. She had seen paintings of majestic mountains, and the golden hills of California, and she longed to paint them herself. That Quinn, and hopefully Lissa, would be at her side was a prospect too splendid for belief.

  She had tried not to think too much about Lissa. After so many years, the thought of seeing her again, of reversing what had happened, was too fragile to dwell upon. She could not let herself think that Lissa would not remember her, or would not want to come with her, or had been irreparably injured in body or soul. Nor could she consider that anything might happen to Quinn in helping her.

  Meredith looked down at the portmanteau she carried. As according to plan, it carried two fresh dresses and two sets of undergarments, including corsets. There was also soap, hairbrush, and hairpins. Quinn had said he would supply additional clothes but had not mentioned exactly what. Her trunk with her other clothes had been picked up earlier.

  She watched as Quinn approached the captain of the Ohio Star, said a few words that apparently amused the officer as they both looked at her. Then he was by her side, his eyes shuttered and his mouth in the remote amused half-smile that he presented to most of the world.

  He nodded to Cam, who took her portmanteau. Then holding her arm lightly, Quinn guided her from the boat to an open buggy. Cam put the bag on the seat beside her and leaped up next to the driver. Slowly they moved from the wharf. Quinn was quiet, too quiet. He said nothing even though she knew the driver couldn’t hear them.

  Her hand touched his briefly, and he seemed to flinch away before he turned to her. She saw how troubled his eyes were.

  “Would you consider staying?” Quinn finally asked. “There are friends here, and I swear I’ll bring her back.”

  She shook her head slowly. “Lissa’s my sister,” she said. “I’ve waited too long.” Meredith hesitated. “And she may not come with you.”

  “Have you thought she might not come with you either?” Quinn said softly.

  She nodded slowly. “Yes, but I have to go with you.”

  He knew it. He wondered why he bothered to ask. But he’d had a strange feeling last night and it was still there this morning. Something was wrong, and he didn’t know what. His hand went to his waist where he wore the money belt.

  The buggy was now moving quickly away from town. They turned south at a fork, then turned again onto a narrow rutted path. When the vehicle stopped after what seemed like hours, they were in a small clearing near a tumbledown shack. Four horses, one without a saddle, were tied to nearby trees.

  Quinn took her portmanteau, along with another on the buggy floor, and passed them to Cam. After helping her down from the seat, he extended a hand to the driver, and Meredith knew the man must be a contact with the Underground Railroad. She watched as the buggy disappeared back along the road.

  Quinn put an arm around her shoulder and led her inside. The cabin was surprisingly well kept, and she realized it must be one of the stations for the Railroad. Quinn opened one of the portmanteaus, extracting a shirt and breeches of rough wool and handing them to her. “We’ll get less attention if they think you’re a boy,” he said. “From now on, you’re my groom.”

  She looked at the clothes with hesitation. The only other time she had worn male clothes was when she had stolen his much too large ones and escaped from the Lucky Lady. Even then, she had felt a little decadent in doing so. But she quickly saw the wisdom of such a masquerade and she knew she could ride faster and longer without a sidesaddle.

  Quinn helped her with her buttons, his hand lingering only a moment on her bare shoulder. There was no time to play the ardent lover; they had to reach Murray by nightfall. But still his body reacted to the sight of her undressing, to the soft ivory of her skin. As she finished pulling on the loose trousers and started to take the shirt, he stopped her and took a piece of linen from the satchel and quickly tied it around her breasts. When she put on the shirt and looked down, she saw little that would identify her as anything but a boy.

  “My hair?” she asked.

  He gave her that troubling little half-smile and took out two jars from the portmanteau. “Spread this on your hands and face,” he said, giving her one. As she did what he asked, he removed the pins from her hair, which he then smeared with a black glob from the other jar.

  In minutes, her wrists and hands were a dark walnut color. Her now-black tresses were quickly braided and twisted into a knot and pinned at the top of her head. A floppy, low-brimmed hat was then set securely on her head.

  She watched as he surveyed his creation. “Cam,” he called out, and almost immediately the man appeared. He looked startled, then a wide grin spread across his face, and he nodded.

  “He’ll do.”

  Meredith wondered if they would ever reach their destination. She was a good rider but she had never ridden quite as long at one time. Her body was also used to a sidesaddle, and she was utilizing long-dormant muscles. Her backside hurt, her legs ached with pure agony, and her hands were blistered.

  She was also cold. She had left her fur-lined cloak, along with her dresses, in the cabin, and she had only a roughly woven coat to replace it.

  The first hours had been wonderful. She had enjoyed the freedom of breeches and the feel of the horse between her legs. It was far better than the awkward perch of the sidesaddle. She enjoyed riding next to Quinn, watching him master his horse easily.

  She could barely keep from gazing at him. After she had changed clothes, she had been surprised to see him do the same. The tailored black clothes came off as she watched, and he donned buckskin trousers that fit like a second skin, a linen shirt, and an exquisitely tailored tan riding jacket. He looked up at her, and a smile arced his mouth as he saw her expression. “Do I pass as a Virginia horseman?”

  She nodded, unable to speak as she surveyed the chan
ge in him, and she suddenly realized that the severely cut black clothes had made him seem remote and dangerous. They had placed him apart from others and, she realized now, it had been done very consciously.

  Now he looked…approachable. More than approachable, dear Lord. Absolutely irresistible. He looked almost a different man. After he had darkened her hair, he did the same with his own, erasing the white around his face, the one distinctive feature most people would remember. A thatch of his usually tamed hair fell over his forehead, adding to the impression of a thoroughly likable Southern gentleman rather than a cold-eyed mocking gambler. Even his smile was different.

  It had been all she could do to keep from going to him and running her hands over his face. As she stared at him, his smile faded, and he held his hand out to her. “We must go,” he said. “We’re already late.”

  Now she guessed they had been riding nearly six hours without a pause. Since he had assisted her into the saddle, he had been quiet and withdrawn, although his eyes often swept over her with intensity.

  At one point, she knew he’d noticed she was drooping.

  “I’m sorry, Meredith,” he said. “We don’t have time to stop. I want to get there just before dinner. He won’t have much choice but to invite me to stay.”

  “I’m fine.” With supreme effort, she straightened her back.

  He smiled, a heart-catching prideful smile, and Meredith’s breath caught in her throat.

  “Is it wise,” she said hesitantly, not wanting to lose that sudden emotional contact, “for me to go in with you?”

  “You said Lissa was very light.” Quinn smiled. “And you are very dark at the moment. Even if you have similar features, I doubt anyone will notice them. You just stay with Cam. He’ll tell everyone you don’t speak.”

  She nodded. With every hoofbeat, she was getting closer to Lissa. Closer to the goal toward which she had worked so many years. Her hands tightened on the reins, and her horse sidestepped in protest. She looked over at Quinn and saw his eyes, understanding and sympathetic, and she thought how wonderful it was that she seemed to love him more and more every minute.

  Cam was riding directly behind them and, as if he knew they needed to be alone, he spurred his horse and galloped on ahead.

  “I love you,” she said, unable to help herself.

  Quinn’s mouth turned up at one corner. “Even if I ride you to death?”

  “Because you’re riding me to death,” she admitted, knowing that he was doing this for her.

  “We’ll get her, love,” he said, his eyes roving over her. She saw a spark of desire in them and wondered, since she knew she looked anything but seductive at the moment.

  “You’re blushing,” he accused.

  “How did you know,” she retorted since her skin was far too dark to reveal any such color.

  “I’m beginning to know you, Merry, love,” he teased, wanting to take her mind from the soreness he knew she must be feeling, and from Lissa. “I can tell by the way you lower those eyes of yours. I’m damned glad at the moment they’re not blue.”

  “I’m sure you would have found a way to solve that problem too.”

  “Probably,” he admitted, “but it would be a bit odd to have a blind groom.”

  She laughed. “With your reputation, Captain, I don’t think anything would be considered odd.”

  “Ah, but I’m not me today,” he said. “I’m a perfectly respectable horse buyer with an eye for beauty.”

  She looked at him skeptically. “I’ve heard the good Captain Devereux also has a very wide-ranging eye for such things.”

  “Rumor, love. A rumor I did my best to foster.”

  “And no truth whatsoever?

  “Well,” he admitted lightly, “perhaps a little. But not after I met a golden-haired girl with the most fetching golden brown eyes.”

  “Who you thought was a ninny,” she accused.

  “But an interesting ninny.”

  “And you were a fascinating scoundrel.”

  “Incredible, isn’t it?” he said, and now his mouth was laughing. “One of these days I would like to sit down with Brett and…” Suddenly his face closed again, because he wondered if he would ever get a chance to tell his brother everything. Brett would probably disapprove of his activities, since the banker was the very soul of rectitude, and most people in the South considered what he was doing outright theft. But part of Brett, Quinn thought, would be pleased to know that he wasn’t a complete wastrel.

  He sometimes wondered why he found it so damned important to have Brett’s approval. But deep inside he knew. His family had risked so much for him, had spent so much of their fortune. His father and brother had even died waiting for him to return. He didn’t want Brett to believe it had been all wasted. Quinn owed him that much at least.

  Meredith saw the curtain slide over his face again. She knew there were still things he had not told her, events that still weighed heavily on him and apparently were too painful to talk about. It hurt her to the core, but she wasn’t sure whether the hurt was for him or herself. She understood, though, for there were still things she had not told him, things that ran too deep inside herself, like the day Lissa had been taken away.

  They stopped briefly at a stream where they watered and rested the horses, and went over the plan one final time.

  Then they were riding again, and the sun was on its downward spiral. They stopped at a farm, asked directions, and continued. The sun was just beginning to dip beyond the trees when they arrived at their destination.

  Meredith reined her horse behind Quinn, alongside Cam. She pulled her hat down so it shaded much of her face, and she kept her eyes to the ground. When Quinn dismounted in front of the house, both she and Cam stayed well in the shadows.

  A servant had evidently noticed their arrival, for the door opened and a tall husky man appeared. His clothes—those of a gentleman—told Meredith that he must be Marshall Evans. Meredith watched as he and Quinn talked. Quinn was at an angle and she could see half of his face. She saw the smile and she knew his plan had worked. This far, anyway. He said a few more words, and Meredith saw the Kentuckian nod his head. Quinn turned toward Cam and strode quickly to him, totally ignoring her. “You’ll stay in the stable with the horses,” he said curtly. “Rub them down carefully.”

  Meredith had to fight to keep her grin to herself, as she heard Cam’s resentful murmur. “Yes, Massa.”

  Quinn liked Marshall Evans. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help it. There was something about the man’s ready hospitality and enthusiasm about horses that was contagious.

  He had been warmly welcomed as soon as he mentioned the name of a banker in Cairo who, he said, had recommended Mr. Evans’s stock. As soon as Quinn had mentioned he would travel on to Murray for a room, he was quickly dissuaded.

  “Not too many horsemen around,” Marshall said. “Most of them are in central Kentucky. It’ll be a delight to talk horses for a change. How did you happen to come this way?”

  “I went to New Orleans, came by riverboat to Cairo where I bought the horse that you’ve kindly allowed in your stable. I’ll be going through Louisville on the way back, but then I heard you might have some excellent stock.”

  “I do,” Marshall said. “You will stay then?”

  Quinn nodded. “Gratefully.”

  “Good. I’ll just tell my housekeeper.”

  Quinn’s eyes never changed when the housekeeper appeared almost immediately. Meredith’s information was correct. He could never mistake those features. The resemblance between the two women was remarkable. If he hadn’t been prepared, if he hadn’t remembered the small girl from so very long ago and how much, even then, the two girls had resembled each other, he was sure his face would have given him away.

  There were differences of course. Lissa’s hair was dark, and her eyes a deeper brown. Her skin was duskier but not by much. She could easily pass for white.

  But there were other differences. There was a mis
chief in Meredith that was not apparent in this solemn slim woman. Instead, there was a rare dignity to her, made even more unusual by the fact that Quinn knew she could be no more than twenty-two. She seemed ageless in her poise. His eyes went to his host, and he saw something in the man’s face that was much stronger than a man’s regard for a servant.

  “Lissa,” Marshall said, “this is Cal Davis from Virginia. He will be staying with us tonight. Show him to one of the guest rooms, and have another plate set for supper.”

  The housekeeper smiled, and Quinn felt warmed. He didn’t know whether it was caused by her resemblance to Meredith or by Lissa all on her own. He did realize, however, that Marshall Evans also felt it, and his hopes for buying Meredith’s sister plummeted.

  He followed Lissa up the stairs to the room, and stood at the doorway, watching her sure, quick movements.

  “I’ll have some water sent to you,” she said pleasantly, and started to leave.

  Quinn’s hand detained her. “You look very much like someone I know,” he said softly. “A Meredith Seaton.”

  He watched carefully as she jerked away from his grasp. And then the words seemed to penetrate and something clouded the brown eyes, reminding him of Meredith. They lacked her sister’s golden lights but they held just as much feeling.

  She stood still, her shoulders straightening the way Meredith’s did. There was, apparently, the same raw courage in this woman. But she said nothing, merely looked at him warily.

  “She’s been trying to find you,” he added quietly. “For years.”

  Still, she said nothing, merely listening.

  “Do you remember her?” God, he wanted an answer. Any answer.

  “She’s alive?”

  The question surprised Quinn. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

  She closed her eyes, remembering that day, which was burned into her mind. She had tried to forget it. But it had haunted her for years. She still dreamed about it, about being dragged away from her mother and calling for “‘Miss Merry.” She had seen Miss Merry at the window and then watched as she fell, the scream echoing in the hot summer air and later in so many dreams. But the wagon carrying her had not even stopped.