Amelia and the Captain

by Lori Copeland

  When Amelia reached Morgan’s side, he briefly enfolded her in his arms. He was shirtless and dirty and smelled of oil and sweat, but she didn’t care in the least.

  “There’s something you need to know.”

  “No.” Amelia shook her head. “You don’t have to tell me,” she whispered. “I know, and I’ve accepted it.”

  “You know so little,” Elizabeth said, but not unkindly.

  “It’s all right, Elizabeth.” Amelia faced her adversary, their eyes mirroring grudging respect.

  “What’s all right, you silly twit?” Elizabeth winked at Morgan.

  “It’s all right that you and Morgan are in love. I can understand why you would love him.” Her eyes confirmed she shared the same emotion. Why? She didn’t know. They’d met under the vilest of circumstances, and the brief time they had shared had been fraught with danger. Still, she knew. Without a doubt she knew that she would always love this man, regardless of the fact that he chose to marry another. Amelia now fully understood the power of love between one man and one woman.

  “I don’t love Morgan,” Elizabeth said, sending Morgan a quick grin. “I’m fond of the big lout, but I’m certainly not in love with him.”

  Amelia’s eyes darted to Morgan, her heart going out to him. “Oh, Morgan, she doesn’t mean that!” Surely Elizabeth’s candor had hurt his feelings dreadfully! Who could not love this man?

  “Amelia.” Morgan gently held her for a moment. “There is nothing between Elizabeth and me except work.”

  “Work?” Well, they needn’t think she was a blind fool!

  “Yes, work,” Elizabeth said. “Morgan and I are working for the Union. We’ve been tracking Dov Lanigan for the past six months. When we met in Galveston, we had no idea that events would unfold the way they have.”

  Morgan picked up the story. “Dov Lanigan was due in Galveston about the time you and I got there, no doubt to pick up the other women. For some reason, Lanigan was delayed, but Elizabeth and I agreed we had no choice but to wait him out. Elizabeth was abducted the same night you were. Fortunately for me, you were both taken to the Black Widow, and you know the rest of the story.”

  “Then you’re not a Union officer?”

  Morgan smiled. “Elizabeth and I serve the Union, but…let’s say, in a more discreet manner.”

  Amelia’s anger surfaced. All this time, the two had led her to believe there was a love match between them. “Why didn’t you tell me? The way you two have been acting toward each other, I thought—”

  “We didn’t tell you because you couldn’t keep a secret if your life depended on it,” Elizabeth said bluntly.

  “I could…” Amelia caught the admission and then nodded sheepishly. “Not.” She was glad they hadn’t told her. Even she could concede that her impetuous tongue would probably have given them all away. Her gaze pivoted to Morgan. “Then you and Elizabeth…?”

  Morgan and Elizabeth smiled at each other. “The times you saw us disappear together were only business meetings,” Morgan said. “We’ve been trying to figure out what to do with the others once we reach New Orleans.”

  “Then you settled the problem.” Elizabeth smiled, and it had the effect of softening her features. “It’s very good of you, Amelia, to offer the others a home at the convent.”

  Amelia’s eyes returned to the boat carrying Austin Brown and his scurrilous crew. “But now it looks as if none of us are going to make it,” she whispered.

  Morgan bent down and picked up the last of the kindling and shoved it into the boiler.

  The two boats cut through the water, their big paddle wheels churning the muddy water into white froth.

  The women gathered from both ends of the boat and huddled together as they awaited the outcome of the race. The Mississippi Lady was nearly out of wood and bacon. Niles, Ryder, and Henry slumped on the railing, their strength ebbing. Izzy stood beside her husband in the pouring rain.

  Above in the pilothouse, Captain Jean Louis fought the wheel, but Amelia knew he couldn’t hold on much longer. Her gaze focused on the white steam pouring from the stacks, aware neither boat could keep this pace forever. The old boilers were pushed to the limit and beyond.

  Moving to stand in the shelter of Morgan’s arms, Amelia allowed tears to slip from her lids, not for herself, because here in Morgan’s arms she would die happy, but for Abigail and Anne-Marie and the sisters at the convent who would never know what had happened to her. Her loved ones would watch for her for the rest of their lives, never knowing she had lost her life trying to outrun Austin Brown and his villainous crew, who’d wanted to sell her to evil men—an act that would ultimately bring about doom to all.

  She frowned. Chances were, no one would ever believe it if they did happen to conjure up such an unlikely scenario. The old boat vibrated beneath her feet, straining with effort.

  Amelia started when a thunderous boom rocked the boat, followed by a second blast. Flying wreckage, scalding water, escaping steam, and cries of distress filled the air, and she felt herself being lifted up and flung into the churning, muddy Mississippi.

  Bobbing to the surface, she fought the heavy waves, her eyes searching the littered waters. “Morgan!” she screamed.

  “Over here!”

  As her eyes cleared, she saw Izzy and Niles side by side, clinging to a floating piece of wood. In the distance, she heard Faith and Hester encouraging Ryder to stay afloat.

  Bunny and Mahalia latched onto Henry and Pilar while the others struggled against the swift current.

  “Is everyone accounted for?” someone shouted.

  One by one, each began to call out his or her name. Niles, Izzy, Ryder, Henry, Hester, Faith, Mahalia, Bunny, Mira, Ria, Belicia, Auria, Pilar, Elizabeth, Morgan, Captain Jean Louis.

  “Here!” Amelia confirmed. “What happened!”

  “A boiler blew!” a voice called.

  “Our boiler?”

  “Don’t know!”

  Grabbing onto anything that floated, the crew and passengers gulped air.

  Debris blanketed the muddy Mississippi. Floating timber, pieces of clothing, blue checked fabric. A minnow bucket bobbed on the churning waters.

  Struggling to sit up, Amelia expected to see Austin Brown sweeping down upon them any minute. Her eyes widened when she saw a piece of wood bearing the name Black Widow float by. Her face broke into a weary smile. Not only had the Mississippi Lady blown up, but Austin’s boat had met the same fate.

  Pandemonium broke out as the crew of the Mississippi Lady whooped and hollered!

  “We made it!”

  “Praise the Lord!”

  Holding on to Morgan, Amelia watched the last pieces of Brown’s boat slowly sink into the Mississippi. She held her breath, waiting for bodies to surface. Releasing the breath slowly, she realized there would be none.

  It was over. The adventure was finally over.

  Amelia broke from Morgan’s embrace and paddled to assist Pilar, who clung to Mahalia’s neck as if it were a life raft. Niles had her by the shirt collar, helping to keep the young woman afloat.

  Morgan checked on Izzy and Henry, who had little more than a few cuts and abrasions from the accident. Henry refused to complain. “At my age, I’m glad to still be here.”

  Izzy appeared not to have suffered anything other than a severe bout of indignity. The explosion had blown her false teeth out, and some fish was now likely proudly displaying the newfound choppers below the water—leastways that’s what Niles said. The four spit water.

  Niles said, “Are we going to swim for the bank?”

  Morgan measured the distance. “The river is wide here. The younger ones can make it, but the older ones shouldn’t try. I say we tread water for a bit. This is a heavily traveled channel; another boat will happen along shortly.” He glanced at Izzy. “Can you make it until then?”

  Izzy shook her head, refusing to speak.

  “She can make it,” Henry offered. “She don’t talk with her teeth out.”
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  Niles jerked his head in Amelia’s direction, whose head was bobbing in the water. “Now that this is over, what are you going to do about her?”

  Morgan traced the man’s gaze. “What do you mean, ‘do about her’? She’s fine. She doesn’t appear to have suffered any wounds.”

  “I can see she’s fine. Mighty fine.”

  Izzy leaned over and pointed her finger sternly at him. “Time’s a-wastin’, young man.”

  The adventure was nearly over. Soon they would be on dry land, and the long-delayed trip to Mercy Flats could begin.

  Elizabeth, who had apparently caught part of the conversation, paddled over to join the group. “Yeah, Kane. What are you going to do about her?”

  Morgan shrugged. “I wasn’t aware that my interest in Miss McDougal was that obvious.”

  “You’re not going to let her get away, are you?” Elizabeth treaded water. “Let her walk out of your life as quickly as she entered, like a bull in a china closet?”

  “I haven’t thought much about the matter the past few hours.” Gazes focused on the young woman who had literally turned Morgan Kane’s life upside down.

  Morgan cleared his throat. “I haven’t decided what to do about Amelia McDougal.”

  Izzy frowned. “Well, you’d better be making up your mind, young’un. A woman ain’t likely to wait forever for her man to come to his senses.” Her gaze turned stern. “Heed my warning.”

  Twelve

  Two weeks later a sizable entourage of wagons topped the rise overlooking San Miguel mission in Mercy Flats, Texas.

  The convent was there, just as Amelia had remembered. Broken hinges, a few scattered chickens, and tangled vines never looked so good. She drew a deep breath and looked at Morgan. “I’m home.”

  “That you are.” He set the brake and permitted the women their first glance of their new home. Towering oaks sheltered the old mansion. Smoke curled from the stovepipe, no doubt a leftover from dinner.

  Sighing, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “We’re all home.”

  The women smiled, each making a comment about their new home.

  “Beautiful.”

  “It looks so peaceful.”

  “It will be a joy to live here.”

  Of course, Abigail, Anne-Marie, and the nuns would be delighted to see her and the newcomers she was bringing. The convent was the perfect ending to a less-than-perfect journey. Amelia’s eyes scanned the grounds for sign of her sisters. The courtyard was empty. The sisters would be in early afternoon chapel. Amelia’s pulse quickened. No use to get upset. Yet. Perhaps Abigail and Anne-Marie were inside, or perhaps they had taken a walk. Time passed slowly inside the building with the red clay roof.

  If nothing else, Amelia’s adventure had proven one thing to her. She had lost her taste for reckless escapades. She’d prefer to live a nice, sane life from now on, one devoid of excitement—especially constant turmoil. A passing ship had discovered the Mississippi Lady’s occupants floating in the water early morning. The violent thunderstorm had passed, and the dazed passengers drifted, waiting for help. They hadn’t been in the water more than an hour before a small freighter happened along. The soggy group grabbed supportive hands and were helped aboard, where the survivors were fed a hot meal and plenty of black coffee. Even Izzy commented that it was the best coffee she’d ever tasted!

  Amelia was confident that once she explained how she felt about Morgan to Abigail and Anne-Marie, they’d agree it was time for the McDougal sisters to change their ways. Since the talk with Morgan about integrity, she knew his was the life she wanted. She vowed to keep her newfound honor now that she was back.

  Abigail and Anne-Marie may have wanted nothing to do with men, but they hadn’t met Amelia’s man yet.

  “I still can’t believe we’re safe and have a new home. The Lord is surely good.” Ria sighed.

  Amelia reached for Mahalia’s hand. “You, along with the others, can keep the mission going for many, many years.” Her earlier conversation with Elizabeth and Morgan flashed though her mind. She was pretty sure that Morgan’s earlier explanation of his and Elizabeth’s strange relationship meant that he felt more than obligation to her. She prayed it was so. She felt sure he would offer to stay around for a while—perhaps delay his trip to Washington a week or so. A lot could happen in a week. A lot of good things. Amelia would love to stay here with the sisters and her newfound family, yet she had grown to appreciate an apple every now and then.

  “You’re the one I will miss most,” Amelia had told Elizabeth the night before they left New Orleans. “No one can be as ornery as you, and I’ll have no one to have a meaningful argument with. Please say you’ll come with us.”

  “There are too many now,” Elizabeth had maintained.

  “One more won’t hurt.” Taking Elizabeth by the shoulders, Amelia had made her face her. “Where will you go? The war’s over, and you have no one. You said so yourself.”

  “I don’t need anyone.”

  Amelia’s eyes narrowed. “Everyone needs someone. That’s just the way God made life work. Having friends is priceless, and you have ten now. How’s that for good fortune?”

  “There you go, being bossy again.” Elizabeth tried to look perturbed, but Amelia knew she wasn’t. Elizabeth wanted to go to Mercy Flats as much as the others, but Amelia could see that she felt she didn’t have the right to intrude.

  “You listen to me.” Amelia squared Elizabeth’s shoulders. “Someone’s got to keep those ornery nuns and me under control, and name me one other person who is better equipped than you.”

  “Ornery sisters?”

  “Believe me, the order can be a real handful when they take a notion.”

  And so all eyes focused on the convent, a new start in life. It wasn’t much, the Mission San Miguel—a few adobe buildings under the blazing sun—but it looked like bacon and Washington apples to Amelia.

  The big hurdles were behind, with the exception of one.

  Turning to Morgan, she asked quietly, “May I have a word with you in private, please?”

  Removing his hat, Morgan wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve before settling it back on his head.

  He nodded and climbed down from the buckboard to follow her to a small clearing a short distance from the other wagons.

  Locking her hands to her waist, Amelia began to pace, not sure where to begin. She had given her subject significant thought during the journey from New Orleans. In fact, it was all she had thought about during the long trip. She was aware Morgan was a man who would prefer conformity in a woman, but she was what she was. If she were meek, she would lose him, and she did not intend to lose him. Goodness knew she’d fought long and hard for his attention.

  “Morgan,” she began.

  “Yes.”

  “I want you to know that I plan to purchase books on Washington Territory and read every last one of them, even if it takes me years.” She wasn’t much on reading, but that would change. She clasped her hands together tightly as her pacing picked up tempo.

  “Go on.”

  “Yes, many books,” she murmured. “All on Washington Territory, and I swear I’ll study them carefully.”

  “You planning on visiting Washington?” His tone was casual, but she was encouraged to continue by the hint of interest she detected.

  “Well, it’s possible. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been eating a lot of apples lately.”

  “Yes, that has come to my attention. Bacon is good, but not for every meal.”

  Her expression fell. “I love bacon.” She brightened. “But I’m learning to like apples.”

  “I noticed you seem to lean toward the tarter ones lately. Jonathans, I believe?”

  “Yes. Jonathans are my personal favorite.”

  His eyes twinkled “They’re better for you than bacon.”

  “Yes. I’ve been thinking about coming to Washington,” she mused. “If you want me to.”

  The moment of si
lence frightened her, but she was willing to wait for his consideration. After all, this was rather quick.

  Removing his hat, he dusted it on the knees of his denims. “If I want you to,” he repeated. “I don’t recall the subject has ever come up.”

  She paused, turning to look at him. “I’m aware that Elizabeth, even though you both say you’re not attracted to each other, would make a better wife.”

  Surprise flickered briefly across his features.

  “But I could love you more. Now, I’ve been thinking. You have to return to Washington to run the orchards for Silas and Laura, and as big as they are, you really do need my help. Or someone’s help.” She retreated a step and met his steady gaze. “Wouldn’t you agree?” She plunged on, afraid to face the risk of letting him answer. “I mean, four hands are better than two, besides which, if you’re ever going to have children, you should start soon, or you’ll be too old to enjoy them. Agreed?”

  He nodded. “Agreed.”

  “And as far as I can tell, you don’t have anyone in particular at this point that you want to marry. Am I right?”

  “I wouldn’t say ‘no one,’ but yes, I’m still single.”

  “So why don’t we do this?” She started to pace again. “My sisters and I had made a blood pact to always stay together, but I can get out of it.”

  “You can get out of a blood pact?”

  “Sure! When I tell them about you and how you saved my life and how badly you need a good, dependable, strong wife”—she emphasized the word strong—“to help pick apples, they’ll understand.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  She nodded solemnly. “I’m positive. They’re very understanding people.”

  Running his hand through his hair, he glanced at the wagons.

  “After we get the others settled, I’ll have a nice little chat with my sisters, providing they’re back—”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. She was a bag of emotions now that the end of the long journey was finally in sight. If Abigail and Anne-Marie had not survived, she wasn’t sure she could face a life without them. And if Morgan refused her, life would go on, but the joy within her would never be the same.