Amelia and the Captain

by Lori Copeland

  The eyes of the two women met in silent understanding. Attitudes would be easier between them now.

  Reaching for Bunny’s hand, Faith smiled. “Well, the one nice thing about all this is that we’re sort of like a family now.”

  The others murmured their poignant agreement. Amelia knew their paths were sure to take opposite directions when they reached New Orleans, but from this moment on they would be together in spirit.

  Amelia was up before the sun the next morning. The journey would be over shortly, and she would be in New Orleans—on her own. Grabbing her fishing pole, she went to the back of the deck to get in a few hours of fishing before breakfast. The old engine had been kerplunking along smoothly before she noticed an odd noise.

  Setting her pole aside, she ventured to the boiler area, where she found Morgan and Jean Louis bent over, shaking their heads and muttering.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked, trying to peer over Morgan’s shoulder.

  “Trouble with the pressure lines,” the captain murmured.

  Amelia stepped closer, fixed on the boiler. “Can you fix it?”

  “Yes, but it means an unscheduled stop.”

  “Which does not give you license to leave this boat,” Morgan reminded her.

  The two men rolled up their sleeves and were soon immersed in repairing the boiler.

  A few of the women dropped by to view the goings-on, but in general, life aboard the Mississippi Lady proceeded at a normal pace.

  The boat struggled to the next landing, where the captain moored it.

  Amelia returned to fishing, but her heart wasn’t in it. She wanted to stop time, to spend every day—every hour—aboard the Mississippi Lady with her new family. If Abigail and Anne-Marie were here, life would be perfect. Perhaps if she spoke with Jean Louis her wish could be granted. The boat could use more feminine help.

  Dinnertime came and went. Mahalia had taken Morgan and Jean Louis their plates because they seemed too busy to eat with the others.

  The sun climbed higher in the sky. Amelia slipped off her shoes and pushed up the sleeves of her dress. The day was warm and muggy. Sweat trickled down the sides of her face.

  Another hour passed, and it was too hot to fish. Abandoning her pole, she went to the water bucket for a cool drink. The delay didn’t bother her. That meant she would spend longer on the river. The thought made her happy. A couple more nights, a few more hours with Morgan.

  Lifting her head, she blotted the drops of water above her upper lip on her sleeve as her eyes focused on the old boiler. The men looked completely absorbed in trying to repair it now.

  She let the dipper drop back into the bucket and then sidled along the railing to edge her way toward the bow of the boat.

  Bunny was there, hanging out the wash. “Hi,” she mumbled around the clothespins wedged between her front teeth.

  “Hi.”

  “Thought you were fishing.”

  Amelia helped her pin another shirt to the line strung between two wooden beams. “I am. I got thirsty and came down for a drink of water. The boat is awfully close to the bank, isn’t it?”

  “It’s been drifting all morning. Guess the captains are preoccupied with the boiler.”

  Bunny pinned another garment. “I think we’re all jumpy. We’re so close to freedom that I can’t bear the thought of anything going wrong.”

  “Nothing will go wrong. Most likely Austin Brown gave up days ago and turned back, if he was following us in the first place. I’ve been watching close, and I haven’t seen a sign of any boat following.”

  “Maybe. What’s the first thing you’re going to do when we’re safe?”

  “Buy my ticket back to Mercy Flats. And you?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t have anywhere in particular to go. I’ve been alone since I was fifteen. My grandmother died, and I never knew my parents.”

  “How would you feel about coming to Mercy Flats with me? The convent is very old, and the sisters are aging as well. I’m certain they would welcome each and every one of you into their arms.”

  “Goodness.” Bunny’s hand paused. “Go with you to Mercy Flats?”

  “Sure.” The thought had come out of nowhere, but Amelia quickly warmed to the idea. She would love to take the others back to the mission with her. It wasn’t likely Jean Louis needed more help aboard—and she didn’t know with any certainty about Abigail and Anne-Marie’s fate. She could only continue to pray that their rescuers were as kind as Morgan. “Can you think of a reason why that wouldn’t be the best solution? I’ll invite the others after supper. I know one or two have homes, but you and I have bonded, don’t you agree?” Other than Elizabeth, Amelia couldn’t think of one she hadn’t come to love. And with time, she would like Elizabeth. She would make herself like the woman.

  “Oh my.” Bunny picked up a pair of bloomers. “What a comforting thought. I know I will gladly accept your invitation. I’ve been lying awake at night wondering what I would do and where I would go. Work is scarce because of the war, and I could imagine myself back on the streets, exactly where I was when Austin Brown and his thugs abducted me. Then you came along and I had hope again.” Bunny turned. “Amelia?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.” Bunny leaned to hug her. “Thank you so much.”

  “Don’t thank me. Thank God.” Amelia flashed a grin. “He thinks of everything.”

  Long after the women had gone to bed, Amelia heard the sound of the old Bolton and Watt sputter a couple of times and then spring to life. Too sleepy to respond, she turned to her side and murmured, “Thank You, God.”

  Sleepy voices around her murmured the sentiment. The boat’s deck vibrated as the sound of the steam engine coming to life lulled Amelia back to sleep with a desolate thought.

  The last leg of the journey had begun.

  Midmorning the following day, Amelia’s worst fear materialized. A boat was following now, staying well behind but keeping pace with the paddle wheeler. Austin Brown. Amelia knew she wasn’t mistaken about the swift, newer cargo ship that was now trailing the paddle wheeler.

  Low-hanging clouds in the west threatened imminent rain when Morgan joined her at the railing.

  “Good morning,” she murmured. “Do you see what I see?”

  “We see him. He joined us about an hour ago. You’d better round up the women and go below.” Amelia noted his grave tone, the tight set of his lips. Her heart started to thump. “What happens now?”

  “Now we fight.”

  She reached over and caught his hand, despair filling her. “Morgan…”

  “Go below, Amelia. Jean Louis and I will handle this.” When she turned, he caught her hand and drew her back. Holding her tightly, he whispered against her ear. “Don’t try to help. This could get rough.”

  She buried her face in the front of his shirt, breathing deeply of his familiar scent, fearing this would be the last time he held her. A terrifying sense of doom squeezed her windpipe. Brown would have a whole boatload of thugs to help recapture the women. Morgan and Jean Louis would be only two against many. The odds were insurmountable.

  His hold tightened briefly before he released her. “Gather the women and go below. There’s a stretch of river coming up shortly. There is where Brown will make his move.”

  Tipping her face upward, Morgan gave her a brief kiss. “You look pretty in the morning light.”

  “Morgan, I have something to say.”

  “Is there a time when you don’t?”

  “Don’t say no until you’ve heard me out.” Avoiding his gaze, she took a deep breath. “I want to leave the boat immediately. Have Jean Louis pull closer to the shoreline, and I’ll get out.”

  He released her and gently turned her toward the pilothouse. “That’s not an option. Now go below.”

  Shaking her head, she refused to budge. By now the other women apparently noted the following boat and started to gather. Pilar walked to Morgan and Amelia standing at the railing. “It’s Br
own, isn’t it?”

  “It’s Brown,” Morgan acknowledged. “Pilar, get the women below and take Amelia with you.”

  “No.” The young woman’s eyes turned grim. “I overheard what Amelia said, and I agree. Have Jean Louis move the boat closer to shore, and we will get off. Brown wants us, not you and Jean Louis. It isn’t right that you and the captain risk your life any longer for what appears to be inevitable.”

  The other women nodded mute support. Bunny spoke up. “What Pilar says is true. Brown doesn’t want you; he wants us.”

  Elizabeth stepped to the front and faced Morgan. “If you and Jean Louis are killed, which you will be with the odds against you, we will meet the same fate as if you’d walked away. Let us off the boat, and we’ll try and make a break for it. I promise I’ll do my best to keep the girls safe.”

  “Elizabeth.” Morgan shifted his stance. “How long have you known me?”

  “Long enough to know you’re pigheaded and stubborn as a mule, but this time your compassion is going to get you killed.”

  “For once, I agree with Elizabeth.” Amelia reached to take Elizabeth’s hand in a sign of unity. She could argue with herself all she wanted, but Morgan and Elizabeth’s “friendship” was a fact, one she had to get used to. She didn’t intend to stand by and see Morgan shot because of her. She loved him far too much to see any harm come to him because of her foolish nature. It occurred to her that perhaps she might have fallen for a rogue—a man who would carelessly share his kisses with two women! She straightened. She was going to point that out to the scoundrel the moment this new crisis was over—if she could still talk.

  Morgan took Amelia and Elizabeth by their forearms and ushered them to the foot of the steps. “Go below.” He turned and motioned for the others to follow.

  One by one the women slipped past, murmuring heartfelt warnings to take care.

  Periodically, Amelia moved to the porthole, watching Austin Brown draw closer. Elizabeth and the others were working on the new curtains, going about their business as though their world wasn’t about to come to an end, as if the pretty gingham would actually hang at the porthole windows.

  Amelia stepped from her observation spot, and Bunny took her place at the window. Seconds passed before Amelia’s cheeks flushed with excitement. “Come see! There’s a huge boat coming toward us carrying hundreds of people. Come see!”

  The women dropped their sewing and ran to the porthole, crowding around the clouded glass. Niles’s voice drifted from above their heads.

  “Lord A’mighty,” he murmured. “What a beautiful sight.”

  “What is it?” Amelia stood on her tiptoes to see.

  Morgan’s voice followed. “I can’t imagine.”

  Someone aboard the other boat shouted, cupping his hands to his mouth to be heard above the clatter of engines.

  “What?” Henry yelled back.

  Squeezing through a hole, Amelia elbowed her way to the front.

  “Over! War! Have you heard the war is over?”

  “Eh?” Niles cupped his hand to his ear.

  “War is over!”

  Amelia turned to Ria, breaking into a smile. “The war is over. That’s what he said. The war is over!”

  Morgan leaned over the railing, shouting. “The war’s over?”

  Waving and jumping up and down, the caller shouted back. “Lee surrendered to Grant! War’s over!”

  “When?”

  “On the ninth at Appomattox! Lee surrendered to Grant!”

  “The ninth,” Morgan shouted. “What month is this? April?”

  “Late April!”

  Bedlam broke out aboard the Mississippi Lady. The women raced to the deck as the crew celebrated the stunning news. The war was over! Praise God!

  Jumping up and down, the women cried and hugged each other. Words like “I can hardly believe it!” filled the air. Even Elizabeth was spotted lifting the hem of her shirttail to wipe away tears of apparent joy.

  As the huge vessel pulled even with the Mississippi Lady, the mood turned somber.

  Hundreds of discharged, ragtag soldiers leaned wearily against the rail, staring back with lifeless eyes.

  The man who had been doing all the shouting leaned over the railing and shouted again, “Have you not heard? Lincoln is dead!”

  “Dead?” Morgan called back. “When?”

  “Week and a half ago. Ford’s Theatre. Shot in the head! The funeral train is taking his body to Springfield, Illinois.”

  President Lincoln was dead. The war was over, and a man of gentle spirit, a man who had made himself needlessly accessible at times, a man who was unswerving in his goal of restoring and preserving the Union, President Abraham Lincoln, was dead.

  “Where are you going?” Morgan called.

  “Home,” the man shouted back.

  “Good luck to you, then.” Morgan waved, and the other man returned the gesture as the boat continued downstream.

  Amelia raced to hug Morgan tightly around the neck, nearly taking him to his knees in her jubilance. “Thank you…oh, thank you for saving us to witness such glorious news!”

  “Thank the good Lord. We’re going to need His blessing.”

  Hester came with Bunny close behind, and pretty soon Morgan had women hanging all over him, showering him with their gratitude.

  Amelia stood beside Elizabeth, smiling at the exhibition. Her head spun with the news.

  Morgan’s eyes found her above all the commotion, and somehow her gaze told him more than she ever could have.

  Was she showing too much gratitude?

  Yes, but by now it was obvious she adored him. Anyone with sight would know that.

  Ten

  Morgan reached out and caught Amelia by the arm as she tried to sidestep him when the cheering faded away. “You’re supposed to be below.”

  “You couldn’t possibly think I would stay below when something this meaningful happens.” She struggled out of his hold and turned to walk away, but he stopped her. Brown was keeping a safe distance behind the Mississippi Lady. The river curve was approaching. There would be precious little time to talk in a brief while.

  Morgan knew that his distorted relationship with Elizabeth worried Amelia, and she had every right to suspect him of being a rogue. He didn’t deny that her feelings had come to matter to him, a recognition that he didn’t fight. If they reached New Orleans, he was going to explain to her about his relationship with Elizabeth. With the war over, it no longer mattered if she knew his role in it. Oddly enough, he had come to gain her trust, and he seriously doubted she would find it necessary to reveal his and Elizabeth’s purpose. He found the thought of exploring his and Amelia’s growing attraction energizing.

  Energizing? A strange choice of words. Any other he might use to describe his feelings for her was even more disturbing to him.

  Dark, threatening clouds now blocked the setting sun. Everyone aboard admitted that nerves were stretched. The river bend had failed to materialize, but Jean Louis assured Morgan over supper that it would. Morgan’s memory served him well.

  Morgan scooped another mound of potatoes onto his plate. “We should have reached that bend two hours ago.”

  “The broken boiler has thrown your timing off.” Jean Louis reached for the salt.

  “Still, it will be dark soon. I’d just as soon fight this battle in broad daylight.”

  “Humph.” Niles heaped gravy on a split biscuit. “I’d just as soon not fight it.”

  Izzy leaned over and gave his hand a little pat.

  Shortly after supper, Amelia was in the galley with Mahalia and Izzy when the first roll of thunder sounded in the distance. Izzy glanced up, concern creasing her brow. “Lawsy, I was hoping we’d reach New Orleans with nary a storm. Better batten down the hatches, girls.”

  While Izzy locked the cupboards, Amelia and Mahalia put away everything breakable.

  Morgan appeared in the doorway. “It looks like heavy weather moving in. Take the proper precaut
ions.”

  Lightning forked the sky, followed by the crackling sound of thunder. The storm was closer now, moving in fast.

  Faith ran to help Bunny gather in the wash, which was flapping wildly in the rising wind, while Niles and Ryder secured the boat.

  A heavy wind gust sent ropes skittering across the deck. Jagged lightning streaked the sky, followed by peals of explosive thunder.

  The men donned oil slickers, shouting to hear one another above the rising fury.

  “I can’t swim,” Pilar reminded Amelia as they hurried along the deck. “What if the boat capsizes?”

  “It won’t. It’s too big.” Actually, she had no idea if the boat would stay afloat, but they had enough to worry about without adding a sinking vessel.

  “But what if it does?”

  “Then we’ll get wet. Don’t worry, I’ll be right there beside you,” Amelia promised, “exactly like when we had to escape the Black Widow.”

  “But it wasn’t storming then!”

  Chaos broke out as the storm vented its full fury. The Mississippi Lady rocked back and forth as sheets of rain pelted the cabin window.

  The women huddled close, listening with mounting terror as rain lashed the portholes. “If Brown doesn’t get us, this storm will,” Mahalia promised.

  “Shush!” Amelia reached to comfort a quaking Pilar.

  The boat shook and creaked back and forth in the heavy waves as lightning and thunder now came on the heels of each other.

  When she couldn’t stand it any longer, Amelia slipped away, returning to the pilothouse where both Morgan and Captain Jean Louis were fighting the wheel.

  “Where are the others?” Jean Louis shouted.

  “Below.”

  “Better tie yourselves to the bunk. It’s gonna be a bad one!”

  Morgan fought the wheel, spinning it to a sharp right to keep it in the channel. “Amelia.”

  “Yes?”

  His eyes left the river long enough to find hers. “Be careful!”