Twice Blessed

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  Wyatt smiled when he saw The Ohio Star bobbing like a cork next to the pier. The white boat was almost forty feet long and about half as wide. Two lower levels of deck were separated by stairs at both the bow and the stern. Railings along all three decks were shadowed by the rooms built in the center of the boat and the smokestacks that rose high above the uppermost deck. The starboard paddlewheel was hidden, as was its twin on the far side of the boat, beneath a wooden casing that was painted with the boat’s name. The Ohio Star was lettered in red in a half circle above and below a blue star that was as tall as Wyatt and set in the middle of the cover.

  He knew the boat looked just like others along the river, but this one was his and Horace’s. All they had to do was find a way to pay for those parts and get the boat repaired. Then he would be back on the river, and he and Horace would be masters of this steamboat.

  Laughter came from the boat. Not Horace’s, but another voice. Higher and unquestionably sweeter. A child’s voice.

  Balancing the cases with care, Wyatt walked across the narrow plank. He set the cases on the deck and heard the laugh again. Who was on the boat? If one or more of the village kids had decided to sneak on board, he would toss them off along with a warning not to return. The Ohio Star was damaged enough without curious kids poking their noses into everything.

  When he heard a deeper laugh, he frowned. He recognized the laugh that rumbled like faint thunder. Horace! Was Horace talking to some kid? Or was it a kid? That light laugh might belong to a young woman. And Horace getting involved with some gal could mean them being run out of town before they could get the parts to fix the boat.

  Coming around the storage room that was set in the middle of the bottom deck, Wyatt saw his partner perched on a crate. Horace was talking to a little red-haired lass who was sitting cross-legged on the deck as if The Ohio Star had been her home since her first breath.

  Horace Appleby might be thirty or fifty or a hundred. His face was weathered by years of sun reflecting off the water, but he was as spry as a lad. His hair could have been blond or white. Wyatt was not sure. Dressed in black twill trousers, Horace made a stiff sound as he moved. Not from his joints, but from the heavy material that was edged with copper rivets. Suspenders climbing up over his light blue cotton shirt outlined his narrow chest. On his feet were boots as scuffed as Wyatt’s. It was the same outfit he wore every day, washing it out in the river whenever he felt the need to.

  Wyatt discovered that he was being stared at. By that girl who had the reddest hair he had ever seen. It was almost the color of the red letters on the sidewheel … or the color the words had been when freshly painted. Freckles were scattered like brown sugar across her nose and cheeks. Beneath red lashes, her brown eyes were appraising him with an astute regard that seemed far too old for her tender years.

  He recognized that expression, although he had not expected to see it on such a young face in a town like Haven. It reminded him of a frightened, cornered animal. She was trying to figure out if he was a potential friend or an enemy, and she wanted to be prepared either way.

  “Howdy, Wyatt,” Horace called, motioning for him to come closer. “We have company.”

  “So I can see.” He looked again at the little girl who was holding a rag doll with hair as scarlet as hers. “Who are you?”

  The little girl leaned her elbows on her knees as she swung the doll in front of her. “I’m Katherine Mulligan, and this is Shirley.”

  “Well, Katherine—”

  Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t like being called Katherine.”

  “What do you like to be called?” He glanced at Horace and smiled. This child spoke her mind. No wonder, Horace had not told her to go ashore. Horace liked kids, which was why he had more than a dozen of his own in various towns along the river. Most of them were grown, and several were working along the Ohio and the Mississippi. The youngest one—at least the youngest one Wyatt knew about—was about the age of this kid.

  “Kitty Cat.”

  “Kitty Cat?” Wyatt repeated.

  Horace chuckled. “Ain’t it the perfect name for her? I found her tiptoeing about the boat, as quiet as a cat.”

  “I wanted to see the boat,” Kitty Cat said. “It’s a pretty boat.”

  “It is that.” Wyatt rested his shoulder against the wall of the boiler room.

  “I’ve never been on a boat before.”

  “Never?”

  She shook her head and leaned her doll on the white pinafore she wore over her simple green dress. “Never.”

  “You’ve lived on the river for all these years—”

  She held up three fingers on each hand. “I’m six years old.”

  He smiled. “So why have you lived here for six years and never been out on the river?”

  “I just got here a few months ago.”

  “Then your parents must be extra worried about you. It’s late. You should go home before they think you’ve disappeared.”

  She continued to stare at him as she said, “I don’t have any parents. Not anymore.”

  “Someone must be anxious about you.”

  Kitty Cat lowered her eyes. “Rachel will be.”

  “Who is Rachel?” Now the chatty kid was being as tight-lipped as a sinner when a minister was calling.

  “I was placed out with her when I came on the orphan train to Haven.”

  “Orphan train?” asked Horace, frowning. “Someone sent you away? That’s plum awful.”

  “I’d heard,” Wyatt said, “when we delivered some supplies to Haven two weeks ago, that some kids arrived here on an orphan train a few months back.” He arched a brow. “So I guess you haven’t been in Haven for long.”

  At a low rumble, the little girl put her hand over her stomach and grinned.

  “Hungry?” asked Horace.

  “Yes. Shirley and I are hungry.”

  Standing, he held out his hand. “I don’t think we’ve got any food for your doll, but I do believe there’s enough gravy, beef, and biscuits in the saloon if you want to share our supper.”

  “Up the stairs there,” Wyatt said. As the little girl ran toward the steps, bouncing her doll on every skip, he added, “Horace, her name may be Kitty Cat, but she’s not an abandoned kitten. Someone must be getting downright anxious about where she is. Folks in Haven might not be too pleased to find out that we let her stay here.”

  Horace waved his hand and chuckled. “I’ll take her home as soon as she puts something in that grumbling stomach. I may have to give that Rachel a piece of my mind for letting a kid like Kitty Cat roam around the river when she doesn’t know how to swim.”

  “Don’t give away any pieces of your mind. We’re going to need all our wits to figure out a way to get the parts to fix The Ohio Star.”

  “Expensive?”

  When Wyatt told him what he had learned at the general store, Horace’s smile vanished. It did not return as they climbed the stairs to the upper deck.

  Light from the full moon rippled on the water, creating a creamy path from the Ohio shore to the Kentucky one on the other side of the river. The boat strained against the ropes holding it as if it wanted to escape back into the river and be on its way. The moonlight was not strong enough for Rachel to see what name was painted on the wood covering the side-wheel, although a big star was visible in the center.

  Sean O’Dell had seen Kitty Cat heading in this direction after they had spoken in the village. Whatever had possessed Kitty Cat to come down to the river and this boat?

  Rachel’s heart twisted painfully. Maybe Kitty Cat had not run away just to see her friends. Maybe she wanted to flee River’s Haven forever.

  Gathering up her long black skirt, she inched down the hill toward the boat. She always changed into more conventional clothes when she came into Haven, because she had seen how the dresses at River’s Haven made people in the village uneasy. She hated these skirts, for they were bulky and confining and had a tendency to catch on every stalk of grass. Every
time she put on this skirt and the white blouse beneath a black bolero jacket, she appreciated the sensible clothing she usually wore.

  She paused when a man carrying a lantern appeared out of the shadows on the steamboat. She hesitated. Merrill would be furious to learn that she was here speaking to a stranger without anyone else from River’s Haven with her. How many times had he told her that outsiders could cause trouble for her and the Community? Outsiders did not understand—or had no interest in understanding—River’s Haven. They were happy with their assumptions, no matter how inaccurate they might be.

  But Merrill would have been even more outraged if she had asked him to come with her to retrieve Kitty Cat. Her brother had made his feelings about Kitty Cat very clear after the ruling by the Assembly of Elders. By this hour, he was with his friends or calling on Miss Page, who had completed her year with her most recent husband just two weeks ago.

  Helga Page was not a woman who would want to be alone for any length of time. In any Community other than River’s Haven, she would have been labeled as trouble. She was a flirt and clearly on the outlook for her next husband while she was with her current one. She had had a different one each year since Rachel had come to River’s Haven, and it seemed Merrill was in line to be the next.

  Rachel pushed that uneasy thought out of her head. She had to find Kitty Cat now. She tried to see onto the boat, but the only person in sight was the man. Something about his self-assured stride across the deck drew her attention back to him.

  “Are you going to stand there and gawk all night?” the man shouted as he set the lantern down and rested his arms on the railing.

  In the light from the lantern she could see how his dark hair twisted across his forehead beneath his hat. Its floppy brim could not cloak the strong angle of his chin or his aquiline nose. He wore a coat of the same gray as his eyes. Unbuttoned, it flapped open to reveal a dusty shirt and trousers that ended in his scuffed boots. Hardened muscles told her this was a man accustomed to a grueling life on the river.

  When she raised her eyes to his face again, she flushed at his smile. It broadened as his gaze moved along her in a slow perusal that made her aware of every tangle in her hair and each wrinkle in the skirt that brushed the tops of her shoes. He tipped his hat in her direction, and she had the strange feeling that he meant the everyday motion to be a challenge.

  Rachel looked away, berating herself for being so forward. Admiring a handsome man who was bronzed by the sun upon the river was silly. Letting him eye her as if she were something for sale at the general store was even more stupid.

  “Well?” he called. “Are you going to stand there or come aboard?”

  “I shouldn’t.”

  “Why not? We can go on shouting so everyone in the county can hear our conversation, or you can come aboard and tell me what brought you down here to the river at this late hour.”

  Rachel wiped her hands on the heavy black fabric of her skirt. He was right. Bellowing out her questions would not get her any answers.

  She let her feet slide down the rest of the hill. When she saw that the only way aboard was across a slender board, she called, “I need to ask you a question.”

  “Come aboard.” He motioned with his head, then smiled as if he could read her uneasy thoughts.

  That smile vexed her. She put one foot on the board and found it was steadier than she had feared. Even if she fell off it, the water was not deep here. She hurried across before her courage failed her.

  The heels of her shoes striking the deck echoed strangely. When the man turned, the knowing smile was again on his lips. She hoped he would be able to help her find Kitty Cat right away. Then she could head back to River’s Haven.

  “You must be Rachel,” he said.

  She smiled. If he knew her name, he must have spoken with Kitty Cat. “Yes. Rachel Browning. Is Kitty Cat still here?”

  He nodded and hooked a thumb toward the deck above them. “She’s having supper with my partner up in the saloon.”

  “Saloon? You took that little girl to a saloon?”

  “Calm down. That’s the name of where we eat.”

  She took a steadying breath. She was acting like a shrew, but she was worried about Kitty Cat. “I thought the dining room on a boat was called a mess.”

  “On a ship, it’s a mess. On a riverboat, it’s the saloon.”

  “Oh.”

  He smiled, his eyes crinkling into lines that suggested he smiled often. “Anything else I can help you learn?”

  “About the boat?”

  “Or whatever you wish.”

  Hoping that she had misunderstood his suggestive answer, she hurried to say, “I must ask you to bring Kitty Cat to me immediately, so I can take her home.”

  “It won’t hurt to let the kid finish her supper, will it?”

  “She should come home now.”

  “Rachel—”

  “You should address me as Miss Browning.”

  “Why?”

  She was not going to spend the evening teaching him his manners. “If you will bring Kitty Cat to me, I shall leave you to your business.”

  “Kitty Cat is my business at the moment.”

  “Yours?”

  “Everything on The Ohio Star is my business, and she is on The Ohio Star.” He eyed her up and down, and a rakish smile tugged at his mustache. “So are you. Why don’t you come up and have supper with us? I suspect you’ve been searching high and low for the kid and missed your own supper.”

  Rachel hesitated. Perhaps the man was trying to make up for his crude comments. “I should take Kitty Cat home without delay.”

  “All right. Suit yourself, but I’m going to go and get my supper. You can wait here until Kitty Cat is done with hers and I’m done with mine.”

  Rachel frowned. The man was not being gracious. Nor was he being kind. She could not leave the little girl with such a rogue.

  “All right,” she said, using his words. “I will accept your invitation, Mr.—”

  “Colton, but you can call me Wyatt.” He gave her another grin that dared her to slap it from his face.

  “Mr. Colton, I would like to see Kitty Cat now.”

  “Say please.”

  “What?”

  He arched a brow. “I thought a lady always said please. If you aren’t a lady”—he ran a finger along her jacket sleeve—“that would be all right, too.”

  “Mr. Colton!” She edged back a step and bumped into a wall. She looked over her shoulder to discover there must be a room in the middle of this deck. When he moved toward her, she said, “Please!”

  “Now that isn’t a very nice please.”

  “It wasn’t intended to be.” She put her hand over her mouth, shocked at her own impertinence. She was being as outspoken as when she had questioned the Assembly of Elders. Her expectation that she had learned her lesson then and would now curtail her impetuosity seemed to be misguided.

  “Well, well.” Mr. Colton put a hand on the wall and grinned. “The kid’s name may be Kitty Cat, but I can see who has the claws.”

  “Mr. Colton, would you please show me the way to where Kitty Cat is?”

  He held out his crooked arm. “This way.”

  Rachel hesitated again. She might speak up boldly, but she never had been comfortable around strangers. Especially this strange man who seemed to be able to irritate her with every word he spoke and every glance he fired in her direction.

  “Do you want to go or stay here?” Mr. Colton asked. “My supper is getting cold, Rachel.”

  She put her hand gingerly on his arm. As she had expected, his shirt sleeves were tight against hard muscles. “Mr. Colton, I think it would be much easier for all involved if you would address me as Miss Browning.”

  “I don’t always like to take the easy way.”

  With a motion as grand as if they stood in an elegant ballroom, he turned her toward the stairs that were just wide enough for the two of them. She put her foot on the first riser
and wobbled.

  “Steady there,” he said, pulling his arm from beneath her hand and putting it around her waist. “You’ll get your river legs under you in a few minutes.”

  “I am fine.”

  “Yes, I believe you are.”

  Rachel thought curses she would not speak aloud. This man had a patter as smooth as a planed board. Every word she spoke, he found a way to twist and toss back at her. The very best thing she could do would be to collect Kitty Cat and be on her way back to River’s Haven before anyone discovered they both were gone.

  How would she explain all of this to her overprotective brother if he noticed she and Kitty Cat were not in the cottage? She glanced at Mr. Colton. How would she explain him?

  Three

  Rachel was astonished to see simple curtains in the rooms that took up most of the upper decks. Only a small room at the front of the uppermost deck had no curtains. It had a big wheel at the center. She guessed that was from where the boat was piloted and an unobstructed view would be necessary.

  Mr. Colton opened a door about halfway to the back of the boat and announced, “Get out your best manners, Horace. We’ve got company.”

  Who was Horace? She did not ask that as she grasped the door frame when the boat rocked beneath her. It was not a fierce motion, but she never had been off solid ground before. Stumbling in Mr. Colton’s view would be embarrassing.

  The room was far more spacious than she had expected. It must be almost twice the size of the front room in her cottage. A cast-iron stove sat at the far end, its stovepipe snaking out through a hole in the wall. A trio of rocking chairs were set beneath a large window that gave a view of the back of the boat. She could not imagine Mr. Colton sitting there and complacently rocking. Beneath her feet as she entered the room was a braided rug. One section had pulled apart, and she could see where hasty stitches had drawn it back together again.

  Delicious aromas filled the room, aromas that reminded her of her family’s small farmhouse when she had been a child. She could almost believe that if she closed her eyes the spicy scent would carry her back to that time and place.