Butterflies took wing in her stomach as she considered the trip ahead. The boat ride was sure to be fun, and she was looking forward to seeing the attractions in Jackson, but what she anticipated most were the open-air church meetings. They always strengthened her faith and left her feeling rejuvenated and restored. Optimism buoyed her, and she left her bedroom with a new spring in her step.
The crew did most of the work involved with loading the LeGrands’ luggage onto the Sierra Queen, the stern-wheeler Nathan and the LeGrand family would be traveling on for the next twenty-four hours. Nathan tried to help, but he was pushed aside as the experienced men lifted the heavy trunks to their shoulders and strode to the boat. Mrs. LeGrand and her daughter would be staying in one stateroom, while he shared another with Mr. LeGrand.
Once again, Nathan marveled over their generosity. If not for their insistence, he would have had a much more arduous and lengthy trip.
“Come on, Nathan.” Mr. LeGrand’s voice drew his attention to the carriage. “Would you give Abigail a hand while I help my wife onto the boat?”
“Of course, sir.” Nathan smiled at both of the ladies and offered an arm to the younger. “Watch your step.”
Rough boards spanned the distance between the bank and the boat’s deck, making a gangway for passengers. As soon as the two of them reached the center point, he could feel the wood bending slightly. Abigail’s hand, which had been resting on his arm, clenched tightly. “Don’t be afraid. You’re safe.”
“You must think me quite the ninny.” Her voice was strained.
“Why would I think such a silly thing? Because you have sense enough to be cautious?” He placed his free hand over the one gripping his arm. “Once we get on the boat, you will feel differently.”
She nodded and swallowed hard.
“Don’t look down, Abigail. Look at me instead.” He caught her gaze and held it as they crossed the rushing water. Something happened. He seemed to fall into her ebony eyes. Eyes that had gone from fear to admiration.
He felt strong enough to vanquish anything. His chest expanded, and his smile curved upward. They stepped as one onto the deck of the boat and stopped, still staring into each other’s eyes. It might have been a few seconds or a few hours before he once again became aware of the activity around them.
“Thank you, Nathan.” She whispered the words before pulling her hand free and walking away, the scarf on her bonnet floating back toward him as if giving him a jaunty wave. He wondered if he’d ever seen anything half so enchanting.
Somehow Nathan knew nothing would ever be the same again.
“That was an excellent meal.” Abigail’s mother looked up at the waiter standing at her elbow.
“Thank you, ma’am.” The man nodded his head as he removed her plate, piling it atop the other empty plates on the wooden tray balanced on his arm.
Papa leaned back in the mahogany chair and patted his flat stomach. “I would be in trouble if I ate like this all the time.”
Everyone at the table laughed at his pained expression.
“I agree with you, Mr. LeGrand.” Nathan put his napkin on the table. “All of the courses nearly overwhelmed my senses. Soup, salad, two entrées, half-a-dozen side dishes, and fresh fruit for dessert. Perhaps we should take a stroll about the boat to stretch our legs.”
“What a grand idea.” Abigail sent him an approving smile and gathered her shawl. She and Mama had spent their time changing into proper attire for a formal dinner. Although their cabin was adequate, she was ready to do some exploring. She stood, bringing both men to their feet. “Please say you want to go, Mama.”
“I suppose so.” Her mother rolled her eyes. “But I don’t plan to stay up all night traipsing about. The next few days are going to be filled with all sorts of activities, and we will all need our rest if we are going to take full advantage of them.”
“I know you’re right, dearest, but the sun has barely gone down.” Papa held out his elbow and Mama tucked her hand under it.
“Don’t blame me if you fall asleep while talking to Bishop Ross.” Her smile softened the words.
Abigail felt Nathan’s gaze and looked up at him. His blue eyes were warm—almost a caress. A lock of thick blond hair fell forward across his brow, and her fingers itched to reach up and smooth it back into place. She pulled at her shawl instead.
Nathan was so tall, towering over her like a veritable giant. She felt small in contrast, small and feminine. How did he manage to do that? Abigail had never felt this way before. How many other ladies had he charmed without saying even a word? Her smile slipped a notch, and she sighed. The answer would probably shock her.
He held out his arm. “Shall we join your parents?”
Still feeling the sting of her thoughts, Abigail ignored his gesture and stalked to the door. She would not be his next conquest.
When she caught up with her parents, they were talking to the captain. She joined them without a word, listening as he described the movement of the engine and how it pushed the large wheel at the end of his boat. Captain Rogers was a slender man of average height, who held himself with the stiff posture of a former military man. From the tip of his shiny bald head to the pointed toes of his gleaming boots, he was all business.
One of the crewmen scurried up and whispered something to the captain.
“Please excuse me. I must see to something.” He sketched a quick bow and strode toward the wide stairs leading to the pilothouse on the topmost level of the boat.
“I hope nothing is wrong.” Nathan’s voice startled Abigail.
A shiver like a bead of icy springwater trickled down her spine. Why had he followed them out here? The unchristian thought shamed her immediately. Where else was Nathan going to go? Her parents had invited him along. She was the real problem. She needed to think of him as a brother. After all, as an only child she had often wished for a sibling.
“Captain Rogers has a great deal of experience on the Mississippi River.” Her father answered Nathan’s comment. “I’m sure he has everything under control.”
One side of the hallway they were standing in was formed by the wall that housed the engine. A waist-high wooden rail formed the other side. Looking past it, she could make out the gray green foliage lining the desolate bank. “Does anyone live on the river between Natchez and Vicksburg?”
“Not many.” Nathan answered her question. “But I suspect that one day soon there will be homes and businesses built out here. The river is a conduit of enterprise. It helps us move goods from one place to another.”
Papa stepped to the rail. “Transportation was much more difficult before Captain Shreve removed the snags choking the river. I can remember back when steamboats first started traveling up the river. It seemed snags were sinking them almost every day. It’s much safer now.”
“Come along, Jeremiah.” Mama tugged at his arm. “These young people don’t want to hear how life was when you were their age. And I need an escort to my cabin.”
“I’ll come with you, Mama.” Abigail took a step toward her before being waved away.
“Your father and I need to talk about a few things, honey. Why don’t you young people stay out here and enjoy the river’s beauty?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She wondered if her mother was matchmaking once more. But even if she was, this was Abigail’s chance to prove that she could control her attraction to the handsome pastor. She turned back to the rail where he stood.
“I don’t know what I’ve done to offend you, Miss LeGrand.”
“Nothing at all until you forgot my given name.” She put both hands on the rail and squeezed hard.
“I’m sorry…Abigail.”
Abigail nodded. Silence surrounded them, broken only by intermittent splashes from unseen wildlife. Damp air made her shiver slightly and let go of the rail to pull her shawl tighter.
“Are you cold?” His voice sounded concerned, kind.
Before she could answer, laughter erupted from the di
ning room they had left earlier.
He was standing so close she could feel when he twisted around to look over his shoulder. Did he wish to be elsewhere? And here she’d been attributing his thoughtful actions to romantic impulses. “It sounds like they’re having a party. I’m sure you’d rather join them than attend me. I assure you I’ll be fine out here. I will seek my cabin in a few minutes.”
“If this boat is like others on the Mississippi, I imagine some of the passengers have begun a game of chance.” He put a hand on her arm. “Abigail, please tell me what I’ve done to offend you so.”
Her heart fluttered like a trapped bird at his touch. How could she explain her feelings when she didn’t understand them herself? All she knew was that she had to erect a barrier between them or suffer grave consequences. She glanced up at him. “I…there’s nothing wrong, Nathan. I’m…I’ve been a little preoccupied.”
“What is troubling you?”
Why couldn’t the man take a hint? Why must he persist in asking her questions? Perhaps if she asked him a question or two about his past she could take his attention off of her. Over the years, she had found this to be an effective stratagem. “Actually you are right. You trouble me greatly, Nathan.”
His warm hand left her arm as he took a step back. He acted like she had slapped him. “Please tell me how I can rectify myself.”
“Ever since you came to Natchez, I have wondered about your background.” She ignored the little voice that whispered caution in her mind. “Yet each time I have tried to find out something more than the basics of where you were born and raised, you deflect my questions. I have begun to wonder if you are hiding some heinous background. Were you a bank robber? An escaped felon? Did you waylay the real Nathan Pierce and assume his identity for some nefarious purpose?”
The scrape of a floating snag distracted her for a moment. She watched the branches slide past, their brittle fingers reaching out as if to snatch at her skirt.
“Be careful, Abigail.” He pulled her back from the rail. “I don’t want you to be pulled overboard.”
Surprised by his move, she fell back against his hard chest. He wrapped both arms around her to steady her, and for a moment she wanted to do nothing more than melt against him. All thoughts of keeping this strong man at arm’s length dissipated like shadows fleeing from the rising sun. She would be foolish to deny the delicious emotions swirling through her because of his nearness.
“My past life has nothing to do with the present.” His voice in her ear sent shivers running up and down her spine.
Reality collided with fantasy. The truth washed over her like the river rushing past the bow of this boat. She struggled to break his hold on her. “Let go of me.”
He complied so quickly she almost fell flat on her face. As soon as she was steady, she turned to face him. “The truth must be pretty awful if you take such pains to hide it.”
Sadness crossed his features, but she refused to be drawn in again. She pointed an accusing finger at his square chin. “You’re a preacher, so you should be familiar with the warning of Moses in the book of Numbers: ‘And be sure your sin will find you out.’ ”
She dropped her hand and marched away from him, fighting against looking back with every step. She was right. She knew it. But sometimes being right was a very hard thing.
Chapter 11
Nathan rubbed at his eyes again and shook his head to clear it. He had gotten up and dressed before the sun rose to avoid waking Mr. LeGrand.
Outside, he walked from one end of the steamboat to the other. The only other people he saw were busy crewmen who were tending their duties in the boiler room, the galley, and the pilothouse. He knew the other passengers would be up and about soon, and he needed to find some tranquility before facing anyone.
If only Abigail’s words had not kept rolling around in his head all night long. They had carried so much authority. “Your sin will find you out.” He could have snatched more sleep if his conscience had allowed it. Or if he had not relived those harrowing moments again and again during the night. The struggle, the fear, the sickening feeling of the knife entering Ira Watson’s body. Over and over again, he saw the man’s shocked face loosen into a death mask. How could he ever ask for forgiveness? He didn’t deserve it.
Because of that, he knew he did not deserve any woman’s consideration, especially not a woman like Abigail LeGrand. So why had he lowered his defenses? The answer to that question was easy. He was beginning to care for her. He thought back to his feelings for Iris Landon, which were a mere shadow of what he felt for Abigail. And his attraction to Margaret had never grown past friendship. Abigail was so different—so complex and invigorating. He liked being with her, talking to her, teasing her.
How had he gone so quickly from one extreme to the other? For a moment or two yesterday afternoon as they crossed the gangway together, he had thought she was the other part of him, the best part of him, the part God had fashioned only for him.
Maybe if he hadn’t taken advantage of her misstep last night when they were alone…but she had felt so right in his arms. And he would have sworn she was comfortable there, too. Then she had turned into a wildcat. Her attack might not have left visible scars on him, but her words had surely cleaved his heart.
He wondered how she would act today. What would he say to her? Should he apologize? Or act as though nothing had happened last evening? If only he could turn to someone for answers. But he’d had no one since his parents’ death. Uncle Richard, the man who had raised him, had never been much of a role model—a fact proven for good when the man was arrested for kidnapping.
He had friends back in Chattanooga, but no one in whom he could confide. A feeling of homesickness washed over him. But had he ever really had a home? Had God singled him out to live his life without the comforts of hearth and home? So what was this longing inside him for something more?
The sun rose over the tops of the trees, washing the eastern side of the steamboat with buttery color. Mist rose from the dark water and dissipated as sunlight warmed it. Reed-strewn banks slipped past him.
Nathan took one last turn on the deck before returning to his cabin. It was time to face whatever the coming day held.
The low, mournful whistle of the steamboat called people to the water’s edge as their steamboat began preparations to dock. Abigail stepped outside for her first full view of the town of Vicksburg. Even though it was bordered by the same river, this city looked very different from Natchez. Instead of featuring ramshackle saloons and ladies of ill repute, the docks here were crowded with warehouses and all sorts of businesses connected to the traffic on the river. Instead of the steep bluffs of Natchez, the bank here climbed a gentle slope to the top of the hill. Houses dotted the side of the hill, and more businesses were perched atop it.
Mama joined her at the rail and pointed. “Look, you can see a church from here.”
Abigail spotted the crenellated tower and nodded. “Vicksburg looks like a growing town.”
“Yes,” her mother answered. “But I doubt it will ever be as busy as Natchez. Our proximity to New Orleans is part of the reason. Natchez has been around a lot longer. When I came down the river with your grandmother nearly twenty-five years ago, Vicksburg was only a bend in the river with a few homes, and Natchez was already the territorial capital.”
“I remember reading about when Vicksburg finally became a town. I must have been fifteen or so.” Abigail pressed a finger against her cheekbone. “I seem to remember it was named after a minister who objected to the American Revolution.”
“Yes, that’s right. His name was Newitt Vick. Most of his children still live here. Your aunt and uncle have visited with his daughter, Martha, at her home here. She is—”
“Here are my girls.” Papa put one arm around Mama and the other around her. “Are you packed?”
Abigail stood on tiptoe and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Of course not, Papa. We were going to let you do it for us.”
Mama watched them for a moment. “Perhaps we should go into the dining room to wait until it’s time to disembark.”
“Good idea.” Papa strode to the entrance and held the door open for them to enter.
They sat at the nearest empty table and watched through the wide windows as the crewmen secured the boat. Abigail would have liked to watch them more closely, but she knew it was better to stay out of the way. A waiter came over to their table and asked if they would care for refreshments. Abigail shook her head. She was much too excited to be able to eat or drink.
After he dismissed the waiter, Papa turned back to her. “Have you seen our preacher this morning, Abigail?”
Her excitement ebbed. “No, sir.” She frowned at him. “Is he not still in your cabin?”
“He was gone before I awoke this morning.” Papa leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs at the ankles. “I was concerned that he may have jumped overboard after your walk last night.”
Abigail spluttered. “I…I don’t know what you mean.”
Her mother raised an eyebrow as she glanced toward her daughter. “Although I don’t remember your looking particularly guilty last night, I also cannot remember you giving me a reason for your early return to our cabin.”
“I’m afraid I am the reason for her discomfort.” Nathan’s voice startled Abigail.
When had he come into the room? Why hadn’t she kept a better eye on the door? Why had the room grown so small? Hot blood burned her neck and cheeks. She could feel all their gazes on her. She wished she could simply melt into the wooden planks at her feet and float away in the water beneath the boat.
“It was nothing.” She cleared her throat. “I…a tree…um…a tree scraped against the boat and I almost fell…and Na—Brother Pierce pulled me away from the edge.”
Mississippi Brides Page 24
