Amelia refused to meet the eyes of her protector, aware she was causing a scene. “No, but thank you. My…escort’s manners need a bit of work.” She flashed an artful smile.
The crowd dispersed, and Amelia exhaled a disgusted sigh.
Morgan pressed the bills into her hand. “Now stay out of trouble.” He turned and walked off.
Her eyes followed his tall form until he blended into the crowd. She’d show him. She didn’t need him to get back to Mercy Flats. And he could bet his stuffy, spit-shined boots he’d seen the last of her. His earlier words raced through her mind. “You’d better start eating something other than bacon—you’re going to get scurvy!”
She had no idea what scurvy was, but she wasn’t going to get it. Not if he told her she would.
The afternoon was too nice to head to the shipping office. Not a vessel would sail until morning tide, so she had plenty of time to do what she wanted. She adored an adventure, and this certainly had the earmarks of a good one.
She wandered the crowded streets, peering into storefront windows, perusing the meager merchandise displays as if she had enough money to buy more than food and ship passage. She dawdled in front of the bakery window, staring at the crusty brown delicacies the baker was taking from the steaming oven. The big fat yeast rolls being set out to cool looked and smelled heavenly.
The captain had given her ample funds to purchase food, but common sense warned her not to squander it on cinnamon rolls. Her gaze fixed on a crusty loaf of bread, and she imagined butter dripping off its side. Streaming warm butter and jam. Raspberry jam, like the sisters made in big jars in summer. Her knees felt weak with hunger.
The captain’s prior warnings about eating something other than bacon flashed through her mind. Her eyes traveled to the warm rolls. They looked so scrumptious. What if she purchased one and then discovered bacon two blocks away? She would have spent a portion of her money and be stuck with a roll that she might not have wanted as badly as she wanted the bacon that she might find two blocks away.
Why did life have to be so complicated? She wandered down the sidewalk.
It was downright chilly near the water. Her habit was scant protection from a stiff wind blowing off the Gulf. Abigail had told her March was usually mild in these parts.
Spotting a millinery, she crossed the street and hurried up the wooden steps. A bell over the door greeted her warmly.
She quickly stepped to the potbellied stove and warmed her stiff hands. As feeling gradually returned to her fingers, she began to browse the aisles, taking care to keep her answers to the clerk brief and to the point. She supposed a woman traveling alone should exercise caution even when dressed as a nun.
The clerk, a stout, vocal woman, appeared to have nothing better to do than visit. Amelia had frittered away the afternoon, and the store was empty now. She half listened as the woman went on about the weather and how her husband was down with his back again. Lumbago. Worse than usual this year. She had a long walk home once she closed up here, she complained. Amelia sympathized, though if she wanted, she could tell the woman about a real problem.
Hers.
The clerk leaned her elbow on the counter. “Did I mention my son-in-law, Jess? No good. Can’t understand what my daughter saw in him, but nothing would do but she marry the weasel. Within two years she had two young’uns. Can you imagine trying to clothe and feed two babies with the war going on? Jess wanted to fight, but he couldn’t. He gets heat exhaustion real easy and faints. Oh, he left one day and went to join the fighting, but after he fainted three, four times the commander sent him home. Told he wouldn’t be a lick of help with that sort of condition. By then, Ella Sue—that’s my daughter and Jess’s wife—she’d grown accustomed to him being gone and rather liked the change. Don’t suppose a wife should feel that way, but she did. Caused a fuss in their household for a while, but things finally settled down and they seem happy enough—leastways as happy as my Ella Sue can get. She was always a fretful baby.”
The woman paused. “Anything particular you’re looking for?” Clearly the woman wanted to close up and go home. Amelia would like nothing more than to oblige, but she didn’t have anywhere to go. Fear suddenly gripped her. She was in Galveston, a strange town filled with rowdy men, and she didn’t have a place to rest her head tonight. She would ask the clerk for help, but she feared she might send her to Ella Sue’s house for the night, and it sounded to her like those folks had enough trouble without bedding down a complete stranger.
Glancing out the storefront window, Amelia noticed that it was dark now. Lanterns flickered on, and an occasional drunken laugh drifted from the sidewalks. Loneliness engulfed her. She had never experienced such a strong feeling of aloneness. She had nowhere to go until the ship left in the morning. She frowned. Oh dear. She had frittered away the past hours and still hadn’t purchased ship’s passage.
She hurriedly chose a warm, black woolen cloak and carried the garment to the counter. The captain hadn’t said anything about buying clothing, but he should have. He’d prided himself on being so organized, but he hadn’t considered her comfort. The habit was completely unsuitable for cooler weather.
“That be all for you?” the clerk asked.
“That’s it.” Amelia handed her a bill and waited as the woman counted out coins. Even with this impulsive purchase, she still had enough money for ship’s fare. She’d just have to eat lightly.
“Can you tell me what time the ship’s office closes?”
The clerk turned to glance at the clock hanging behind the register. “Closed about ten minutes ago.”
Amelia gasped. “It’s closed?”
“Closes on the dot. The man who runs the office even closes early if he’s hungry enough. His missus is a fine cook.” She handed Amelia her change. “Most everything around here closes early except the saloons. With all them sailors in town, they can carry on all night.”
Well, at least she would be warm, should she be forced to sleep in the livery tonight because of her dawdling. She’d probably have to share her bed with the mule. She squared her shoulders resolutely. At least she’d have better company than she’d had the night before.
When she saw the clerk was about to wrap the purchase, she quickly waved the effort aside. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be wearing the garment.”
“Whatever you say, lovey.”
Amelia removed her headdress, veil, and collar, and then settled the warm cloak around her shoulders. Handing the discarded articles to the clerk, she asked her to dispose of them. She wouldn’t be needing the disguise any longer, and besides, the captain had made such a fuss about the disguise, she felt dirty wearing it.
With a puzzled frown, the lady disposed of the collar and veil and then ushered Amelia toward the door.
“You take care now,” she called.
A blast of air nearly bowled Amelia off her feet as she heard the bolt slip firmly in place behind her.
Well, now what?
Lifting the hood of the cloak, she shielded her whipping hair from the stiff wind. She really should have bought ship’s passage first thing, even though it would seem that she was letting Captain Kane tell her what to do.
The gnawing ache in the pit of her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten today. A hurried glance confirmed that the two eating establishments she had spotted earlier were dark and deserted now. She should have purchased a roll. One roll. The captain had given her sufficient money to buy three if she’d wanted. Anne-Marie accused her of being stingy, but no matter what her sister thought, she considered her ways to be sensible.
Drat, she hadn’t been thinking again. Abigail and Anne-Marie often accused her of not using her head, and she’d let it happen again.
Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her new cloak, she meandered down the sidewalk. She didn’t know where she was going, but she couldn’t stand in front of the millinery and gawk. That would surely draw attention.
Street activity had slowe
d. The sailors moved their horseplay into the warmth of the saloons.
Her pulse quickened when she spotted a tall, sinister-looking man step from the shadows. Her footsteps slowed, and she watched the menacing figure approach her.
Heart hammering now, she told herself she should move on. Now. She should run! She was alone and practically helpless. She could fight, scratch, and scream, but a strong man could overpower her. Her sense of outrage stung when she thought of Captain Kane. What sort of man would leave a woman as scatterbrained as her to defend her honor in this horrible port?
The form drew closer, and she released a pent-up sigh when she saw that the shadow wasn’t as menacing as she’d first thought. Actually, the man appeared almost friendly. Clean-shaven, impeccably dressed in a morning coat, a stiff collar with an immaculate cravat, and pin-striped trousers. Nothing threatening in his manner. When they met, he courteously stepped aside to allow her room to pass on the narrow plank walkway. With a congenial smile, he removed his beaver top hat and smiled. She hesitantly returned the greeting.
“A touch of chill in the air this evening,” he observed.
“Yes, quite brisk.” She stared straight ahead, afraid to meet his gaze. He might appear innocent enough, but he could be one of those friendly but depraved souls Anne-Marie had warned about.
“Take care,” he said. “One as lovely as you should not be out after dark without an escort.” He flashed a warm smile.
Her teeth worried her bottom lip. She knew better, but his was the first friendly face she’d seen all day except for the clerk’s, and she needed a kind word right now. And truly depraved souls were never as polite as this gentleman.
Lowering his walking stick, the stranger changed his demeanor to one of a fatherly nature. “My dear, surely you are not alone in such a wicked town?”
Amelia instantly warmed to his kind eyes. He looked so benevolent, so trustworthy. Could she dare trust a complete stranger? Abigail and Anne-Marie were adamant about such things. Never trust anyone, especially a man, they’d always said.
But Amelia felt so isolated, so uncertain. The area was dark and unfamiliar, and there wasn’t a soul to tell her what to do.
“Yes. Through an unfortunate turn of events, I am alone.” She glanced away, hoping he would see her distress and feel compelled to offer his help without her having to ask.
His left brow swept up to indicate his disbelief. “Forgive me if I’m out of place, but I sense that something is troubling you. Is something amiss?”
“Well, yes,” she admitted. Something was definitely amiss. Morgan Kane had abandoned her in a strange town with barely more than a curt “Stay out of trouble” before he left her in this stew.
Sweeping off his hat, the gentleman bowed from the waist. “Théodore Austin Brown at your disposal. That’s Théodore with an accent over the e. Permit me to be of assistance.”
Concern was so apparent in his voice that Amelia didn’t see how she could resist his generous offer. After all, he indicated he might be overstepping his bounds. What man would bother to say that if he had anything other than her welfare in mind?
“I don’t want to frighten you, and I am quite certain you have been adequately warned about strangers, but you need help, little one. The wind is most sharp this evening. Please, allow me to buy you something warm to drink to ward off the chill.”
Before Amelia could decide whether she should let him take such liberties, he had taken her arm and was steering her into a nearby hostelry.
“Well,” she murmured. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” She would be in plain sight if this man turned out to be something of a scoundrel, though she couldn’t imagine him being anything but genteel.
The hotel lobby was vacant as Mr. Brown ushered her behind a curtain into a small side room where four tables were set for dinner.
The waiter glanced up as though surprised by the unexpected arrivals. “Mr. Brown! How nice you could join us.” He paused, his eyes focusing on Amelia. “Two for a late supper?”
Mr. Brown glanced at Amelia expectantly. “To begin, something warm to drink, if the young lady agrees.”
Amelia’s cheeks warmed, and she nodded acceptance. If she went much longer without eating, she would faint dead away.
Mr. Brown helped her out of the cloak and then held the red velour chair out for her. Closing her eyes, she sank into the plush softness, savoring the heavenly aromas coming from the kitchen. After he sat opposite her, the waiter opened a menu and presented it. Her eyes widened when she saw the prices. One meal would deplete her entire food allowance!
The stranger leaned forward and whispered, “Order whatever you wish. You’re my guest, my dear.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.” Twenty cents for a steak dinner! Highway robbery! And bacon wasn’t even on the menu.
Placing his hand over hers, he smiled. “Then permit me to order for you.” Lifting the menu, he perused the selections and then ordered two porterhouse dinners.
He returned the menu and turned back to Amelia. “Now, tell me. What is one so lovely doing on the streets of Galveston at this hour?”
While the waiter poured steaming cups of coffee, Amelia warmed to Théodore Austin Brown even though she much preferred bacon to steak. She couldn’t afford to be picky tonight. Before she knew it, she was telling him the whole confusing story of how she and her sisters had been rescued by three complete strangers from a band of marauding Comanche and were trying to return to the orphanage where they were raised. She omitted the part about the men thinking the sisters were nuns and about how they were in a jail wagon. That part wasn’t relevant to the immediate story, and besides, it was embarrassing. What would this good man think if she told him she and her sisters had been running con games—however worthy the cause—across half of Texas for the past few years? He would be disillusioned by her, that’s what. And she didn’t want that, not again. Her candidness certainly had spoiled things with the last man she’d told about her past.
The stranger inclined his ear to her unfolding story, sipping from his cup and contributing an occasional sympathetic “Oh” and “My lands!” She and her sisters had indeed been lucky to escape unharmed, he concurred. Indeed, quite blessed.
“But I have been irresponsible,” Amelia admitted, still smarting from the way Morgan Kane had dumped her like a sack of walnuts. Reaching for her cup, she took a sip of the hot liquid. The strong brew scalded her throat. Screwing her face into a grimace, she reached for the cream pitcher.
“I cannot imagine you being irresponsible,” Mr. Brown said. “You seem very observant.”
“Thank you. I was supposed to…well, actually, I was instructed to purchase ship’s passage to Mercy Flats. But by the time I’d finished shopping, the office had closed.”
“How unfortunate.” Leaning back in his chair, Mr. Brown removed a pipe and small pouch from his right vest pocket.
“Now I don’t know what to do.” Amelia realized that she was being terribly straightforward with an outsider, but Théodore—with an accent over the e—Austin Brown, was the kindest and most sympathetic man she’d ever met. “Are you married, Mr. Brown?”
“No, I’m afraid I have never had the pleasure.”
She was bad about ages, but she would guess him to be old. At least thirty or even older. The best years of his life had surely passed. “What a shame. You are a most astute man.”
Mr. Brown filled the pipe bowl and absently brought the stem to his mouth. Apparently recalling his manners, he paused. “Would my smoking offend you?”
“Oh no.” He was being so nice that if he wanted he could set his hair on fire, and she wouldn’t mention it.
The rich scent of cherry tobacco filtered pleasantly through the room as the man settled back on his chair, drawing deeply on the pipe stem. He dropped momentarily into deep thought as she sipped her coffee. The drink warmed her all the way to her toes. Coffee and an even warmer room made her sleepy. Admittedly, the thought of a warm bed and a good night�
�s rest beckoned her.
Finally, Mr. Brown broke from his musing and bestowed another benevolent smile. “This must indeed be your lucky day. Quite by coincidence, I can be of assistance to you.”
She sat up straighter. “You can?”
“Yes. Through a quirk of fate, an acquaintance of mine has a vessel anchored in the harbor as we speak.”
“Really?” The good Lord was indeed looking after her. To be honest, she didn’t know what she would have done if He hadn’t sent Mr. Brown along at precisely the right moment. The good sisters said that almost nothing ever happened by accident, that God usually had His hand in the mix. Now she believed them.
“My friend is the captain of an older but highly seaworthy clipper.”
“And your acquaintance is leaving in the morning? Sailing in the vicinity of Mercy Flats?” It seemed too good to be true. Skeptical, Amelia studied her new benefactor. “Is this true?”
“I would not mislead you, my dear. You have been through quite enough. My friend’s original destination was New Orleans, but a storm blew his vessel off course, and he was forced to make port here in Galveston. I’m persuaded that when I explain your plight, he will gladly see you home. This Mercy Flats, is it far?”
She frowned. “I’m not certain. Maybe not too far.” She had no idea how far home was, but surely Mr. Brown’s captain friend would know. “Is your friend sailing in that direction?”
“I believe he’ll be most obliged to in order to help such a lovely lady find her way home.”
“Well…”
Leaning forward in his chair, Mr. Brown patted her hand consolingly. “I’m sure something suitable can be arranged.” He glanced toward the waiter and motioned for cup refills.
Clasping both hands together, Amelia relented. She was simply too tired to object. “Oh, that’s wonderful!” She frowned. “Of course, I’ll purchase your friend’s services.”
“There’s no need,” Mr. Brown protested mildly. “I’d be most happy to see to your safe return—”
“I insist on paying my way,” she contended. This man had been too kind. She fished inside her cloak pocket and pulled out the remaining money Morgan Kane had given her. She pressed the coins into Mr. Brown’s hand. “If that isn’t enough, I can get more when I reach Mercy Flats.”
Amelia and the Captain Page 3
