by Ingis, Gail
Eight iron beds were crammed into the room. A woman in a crisp white apron attended the needs of those in the beds. Some bore wounds; others were emaciated from starvation and illness. A stench of unwashed bodies and despair permeated the atmosphere.
Leila clamped her lips to stop a gasp. Rork put an arm around her and squeezed her shoulders. She leaned against him, drawing strength from him.
Anya glanced at her with gentle eyes. “It’s a shock the first time one sees the cruelty of man. Food in the South is real scarce. Some of these folk have been on the run for over a year.” She pointed at a man lying on his stomach, his torso wrapped in bandages. “The man who owned him whipped him with a cat o’ nine tails, took almost all the flesh off his back. He was also left for dead.” She smiled at Leila. “Poor fella was lucid enough to tell his story. Reb soldiers found him and put him near the river. Guess they’re human after all. Your husband found him.”
Leila wanted to correct her, but she liked the sound of Rork being her husband. She smiled. He grinned and winked at Joshua.
Kate walked to the beds, holding Martha. “Do you see your mama here?”
Martha’s wide eyes scanned the occupants of the room, but she shook her head.
Anya touched her cheek. “Don’t ya fret, honey. There are three more rooms like this. What is your mama’s name?”
Martha stared at her. “It’s Mama.”
Anya chuckled. “Okay, honey, we’ll find yer mama.”
Leila was by no means sure she could face more human misery, but she bit her lip and followed the group. Rork had an arm firmly around her waist.
Chapter 22
As they entered the final room, a lovely mulatto woman cried out with delight. Dropping an empty bedpan, she ran to Martha.
Kate handed the child to her then snuggled against Joshua, smiling. “This has made my day so worthwhile.”
Anya beamed. “I insist ya all have dinner with us. The victuals are plain, but it will sure fill yer bellies.” She waved a hand. “Come on, I’m goin’ to the kitchen to cook. We all mingle there, best place in a home.”
They followed Anya to a warm kitchen with a huge oak table in the center and plain wooden chairs around it. A thin, blue checkered curtain hung over a small window. Acutely aware of Rork’s hip pressed to hers, Leila looked at the happy faces around the table. The hum of chatter from nine children and twelve adults was soothing and a far cry from the way she was raised.
Rork tweaked a plait of her hair. “What are you thinking?”
Her smile was one of those that gave her eyes a moment of glitter. “I was thinking how I prefer this to the meals I was accustomed to growing up.”
“I’m sure. I was perhaps more fortunate. Dinnertime in my parents’ home was chaotic. I can guess what meals were like in your house, having met your mother.”
She grimaced. “Silence reigned at meal times.”
Tin plates, piled high with grits and beef stew, were passed along.
“Let’s give thanks,” Anya said in her bubbly voice. After a quick prayer, she clapped her hands. “Pass the bread around, Jenny, and let’s eat.” Two steaming loaves of bread made the rounds.
Leila stared at the bread. “Where is a knife to cut the bread?”
Anya hooted with laughter, her massive bosom wobbling like jelly. “Honey, we never cut bread here. We break off chunks to remind us of Christ breaking bread.”
Heat crept into Leila’s cheeks. “Wonderful idea, a good way to teach the children about spiritual things. Have you made that a tradition?
“We have, of course, whenever we have bread.”
Rork chuckled. “Different, huh?”
“Certainly no tin plates and utilitarian cutlery for my mother, only porcelain crockery, silver cutlery, and crystal glasses. And she kept a bowl of yellow roses in the middle of the table.” Leila ate a spoonful of the rich stew. “No surprise, I never had an appetite in my mother’s home. It was a stilted atmosphere.” She broke off a chunk of bread. “This is delicious.”
Anya ate with relish and mopped up the thick gravy with the bread. She smiled at Leila. “I can see ye’re gently reared.” Anya picked up an infant and spooned food into his mouth. “I’m afraid war strips most folk of pretenses.”
“When I think of the person I was, it makes me cringe.” Leila toyed with her tin spoon.
“Yer education has given ya the ability to teach less fortunate folk. And that ain’t somethin’ to sniff at.” Anya pointed her spoon at Leila. “Don’t ya ever have regrets about what ya had in life. That’s what molds ya into what ye’ve become, a fine and compassionate lady.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. Compliments had been in short supply in her life.
Rork planted a kiss on her temple. “She is not only fine and compassionate, this lady is brave and beautiful.” He proceeded to regale them with the encounter they had with the sinking boat and Leila going for help and the death threat from the cougar.
The children stared at Leila, wide eyed. “Ya must have been real scared with a cougar prowlin’ about,” Jenny piped.
Leila giggled. “I was terrified out of my wits.”
Admiration shone in Joe’s eyes.
Leila shook her head. “I thought the cat was hungry.”
Joe’s mouth tightened. “Ya was still brave.” His expression softened. “And ye’re pretty—real pretty.”
“Thank you, kind sir,” she said, looking down.
Rork swept a strand of hair behind her ear. “You need to learn how to accept compliments, my love.”
“Listen to yer husband, honey.”
Leila opened her mouth to tell Anya that Rork wasn’t her husband.
Rork squeezed her hand and leaned closer. “Don’t say anything,” he whispered.
“Why on earth not?” She looked at Anya. “Mr. Millburn is not my husband.”
“Well, he should be.” Anya tilted her head. “Where is yer husband?”
“I warned you,” Rork whispered. “Now you’ve opened yourself up to an inquiry.”
Leila scowled at him and turned back to Anya. “I am married to Hank Dempsey. I must find him to sign my divorce papers.”
Anya tapped her misshapen teeth. “Hank Dempsey, ya say. Is he with a loudmouthed redhead?”
Leila leaned forward, her heart racing. “Yes. I take it you’ve met him?”
“Aye, I had the misfortune. Not surprised ya want to divorce that jerk.” Anya’s mouth quivered. “I had a young lady helpin’ me. He saw her at an inn where she works part time. He was drunk and tried to molest her. One of the children saw it happen and called me.”
Leila put a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh, my soul.”
Rork’s mouth set in a hard line. “What happened?”
“I stopped him. But her dress was ripped, exposin’ the poor girl’s bosom for all the men to see.” Anya blew her nose with a huge handkerchief. “Poor lamb was a virgin, and the shame was too much for her.” She stared at her hands. “I could’ve helped her get over feelin’ dirty. That’s what she called herself—dirty.” Anya’s head sagged. “But I never got the chance. The child hanged herself. I found that damn Dempsey and told him he was responsible for her death.”
She looked at Rork and Leila, and anger seeped into her voice. “He said he was sorry she’s dead, but it weren’t his fault. His hussy says she didn’t think one less mulatto made any difference. Then he up and agrees with her. Those two fit each other perfect.”
“I’m ashamed of what he did and said. His addictions make him violent and irrational. Not that it excuses his behavior.” She bit her lip. “My husband used to be vehemently opposed to slavery. I can’t believe the depths to which he’s sunk.”
“As ya said, it ain’t no excuse.” Anya sn
eered. “I pray he gets what he deserves—to burn in hell.”
Rork put an arm around Leila, but she pushed him away. “Anya, is he still in Boonville?”
“Nah, he took off like the weasel he is—hauled his miserable ass off to Kansas City. Took his woman with him.”
Leila finished her food. “Then I’ll go to Kansas City. Now, more than ever, I want a divorce.”
“We’ll need to find a steamer going that way,” Rork said.
“We?” Leila rose slowly. “I can find my own way there.”
“Not while I’m around.” He patted her chair. “Sit. Too late to inquire about steamers now.”
Chapter 23
Rork cocked an eyebrow. “Are you coming, Leila?”
“Yes,” she quavered and stepped onto the gangplank, chewing her lip.
Rork couldn’t resist. “Ah, you’re afraid.” He swept her up in his arms and carried her aboard the steamer. “It’s just as well I insisted on coming with you to Kansas City. If you’d denied me, I’d have followed you anyway.”
She avoided his gaze.
“You have impossibly long lashes. They’re like black butterflies on your pink cheeks. I love you, Leila.”
She put her fingers on his lips. “Please don’t, not yet. You promised.”
“Did I? Must have slipped my mind,”
“When the divorce is final, I envision you’ll marry me.”
“I-I don’t know if I could marry again. People change after marriage.”
“We’ll have children and grow old together. You must believe I’ll always be there for you.”
She pushed him away gently. “Let’s wait and see.” She laughed. “You might well become bored with me before it even gets to marriage—just like Hank.” Turning, she strode along the deck. “We have a long trip ahead of us.”
He sighed and followed, enjoying the sight of her swaying hips.
Smoke billowed from tall stacks as the riverboat pulled smoothly from the wharf.
The rumble of engines reverberated under Rork’s feet.
Leila stumbled and fell. “Oh my.” She squeaked.
Rork caught her and pulled her against his chest. “Got you. The gods must favor me.”
Dimples played on Leila’s lips. “It’s a good thing you were close by—again. But you can let me go now.”
“I was rather enjoying holding you.” Rork released her.
Leila slipped again. “Goodness, this deck is so wet, and these boots I’m wearing don’t help.” She flailed and fell on her backside. “I always seem to be on my back when you’re around.”
He chuckled. “Give me your hands.”
“Let me catch my breath.”
“In the meantime, you’ll catch a chill. Come on.” He bent, reaching for her.
“I’m fine.” She scrambled to her feet, brushed soot off her dress, and tucked away stray tendrils of her hair. “I’m a mess now.”
He took her arm firmly. “Let’s get you to your cabin so you can change.” He cocked one eyebrow. “I’m willing to be your maid.”
Leila’s mouth quirked up at the corners. “I don’t think so, mister.”
He laughed and steered her to a deck below. “It was worth a try. I never really told you how courageous you were when our steamer was fired on.”
“Thank you. I didn’t know if I would survive. My body was racked with fear, but it was rewarding to be able to help. Those men were willing to give their lives for what they believed—for justice.” She glanced up at him from under her lashes. “I wouldn’t have made it, though, if you hadn’t shown up.”
“I told you, I will follow wherever you go.” Rork led her to the stairs, and a nasal voice halted him.
“What have we here?”
Rork turned slowly, eyebrows raised. He took in a squirrel-like man in a uniform. “I assume you’re the captain, sir.”
The man doffed his hat. “I am indeed.” His eyes fixed on Leila. The hard lines of his face and a long nose with a meager mouth gave him a predatory look. He smoothed his hair, graying at the temples. “Captain Iliad Johnson at your service, Miss . . .”
Leila smiled. “Mrs. Ashburn Dempsey.”
“Ah, Mrs. Dempsey. I’m delighted to meet you, madam.” His beady black eyes slid over her, and he moved closer, taking her hand.
Rork rolled his eyes. I know what this man wants. The captain reeked of his habits—cigars and whiskey. Rork hid a smile. Leila jerked her hand away as though scalded, and she wrapped her arms around her waist.
“I’m rather cold and wet. I fell on the slippery deck. Please excuse me, Captain.” Leila looked up at Rork.
More than happy to rescue her, he gave her his arm. “Shall we continue?” He bowed. “Good day, Captain Johnson.” Rork turned with Leila and scowled. The fawning captain followed.
“Oh, Mrs. Dempsey, before you go,” the captain gushed, “it would give me great pleasure if you’d join me at my table for dinner tonight.”
Leila raised delicate eyebrows. “I wouldn’t dream of deserting my traveling companion, Captain.”
He shook his narrow head. “Of course not.” He gave Rork a cursory glance. “You’re welcome to join us if you wish, sir.”
“I will absolutely join Mrs. Dempsey at your table. I never leave the lady’s side,” Rork spoke in a deep voice, cool and calm.
Johnson all but ignored him and turned back to Leila, an obsequious smile ferreting across his lips. “Is your husband the famed journalist, Hank Dempsey?”
Leila lifted her chin. “Yes, Captain.” She looked at Rork. “And this is Rork Millburn, the famous artist.”
He barely looked at Rork. “Oh, really?” He laughed. “I thought at first that he was your husband—until I heard your name. Where is your husband?”
Leila’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think that’s any of your business. Shall we go, Rork?”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Dempsey. So, will you join me for dinner tonight?”
Leila glanced at Rork. He gave her a nod. “I suppose so, Captain.”
“Well then, tonight can’t come swiftly enough.” He bowed and scampered off.
Leila blew out a breath. “What a vile man.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Rork walked her down the stairs.
“Perhaps I should feign seasickness tonight.”
“It’s up to you, Leila, but I’ll be there with you.”
“So you think I should accommodate the captain?”
Rork shrugged. “At the least we’ll get a decent meal.”
She slapped his arm. “So, I’m to be sacrificed so that you can have a good meal?”
“A man my size needs plenty of sustenance.” He chuckled and escorted Leila along a corridor below the saloon deck.
A crewman ran after them. “Excuse me, madam.”
They turned, and Leila raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”
He stopped to catch his breath. “The captain allocated one of our luxury suites for your comfort.” He sidled past them. “This way, please,” he twittered, scurrying ahead.
Leila hung back. “Why would he give me a luxury cabin? I don’t like the attention that man lavishes on me.”
Rork patted her hand on his arm. “I won’t let it get beyond what it is now. Enjoy the luxury. It may be the last you have for a while.”
The scrawny crewman led them to the lowest deck and showed Leila to the cabin the captain had set aside for her. “Here you are, ma’am.” He pinched his nose and slid a glance at Rork. “I’ll show you to your cabin now, sir.”
Rork scowled down at him. “I know where my cabin is, thank you. And I don’t need assistance to get there.”
The crewman cleared his throat. “Ah, the captain
gave me specific instructions to escort you there.”
Rork clenched his jaw. “Young man, I’m well aware that your captain is intent on dispensing with me.” He stepped closer to the crewman. “But I have no intention of being shunted about. Now, get the hell out of here and tell your slimy little captain that I will not be manipulated.” He put an arm around Leila. “Nor will he have an opportunity to corner the lady. She will always have me at her side. Always.” He thrust a thumb over his shoulder. “Now scoot.”
Eyes popping, the crewman bobbed his head and scuttled off.
Leaning against the cabin wall, a hand pressed to her stomach, Leila gave way to uncontrollable laughter.
Rork smiled and rubbed his cheek. “I suppose that was a poor reaction on my part. But I detest Johnson’s transparent ploys to get rid of me and get his grubby paws on you.” He looked at her flushed cheeks and eyes sparkling with amusement. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered.
She stopped laughing and held his gaze.
With a groan, he drew her into his arms and pulled her hard against his chest. He captured her mouth, and she opened to him, taking his breath away. Their bodies melded, and his world spun into a realm of pure pleasure. He maneuvered her toward a plush double bed draped in white lace testers. Leila wrapped her arms around his neck, and his heart raced as they fell onto the bed.
Trembling, he undid the tiny pearl buttons running down the front of her dress. “I will give you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams,” he whispered.
A small sob escaped her, and she pushed him away. “I want you, too, but this is wrong, Rork.”
Disappointment assailed him, and he ached with need. “I can wait,” he growled. He touched her lower lip and smiled. “It’s hard to resist you, my innocent one.” Rising, he leaned down and planted a tender kiss. “I will have you one of these days.”
