by Bobbi Smith
“I may wear a Union uniform, Mr. Lucas. But my heart is with my heritage,” Wade began, wanting the issue clear with these men from the beginning. “And besides, can you think of a better place to get accurate information about troop movements and payroll shipments than within the ranks of the enemy army itself?” His statements won over all opposition, even Lucas’s.
Nathan spoke up, wanting to get on with what he had to tell them. “Wade has been checking on all the payroll shipments coming through the city.”
“You have access to such sensitive material?” Arthur Brown was surprised.
“Not directly, but there are ways,” Wade informed them.
“Well, tell us what you’ve found out,” Brown insisted.
Again, all attention was directed to the tall, broad-shouldered man in the Yankee uniform.
“All my sources indicated that the Westlake Steamship Line has the present contract.”
“Contract for what?” Lucas demanded.
“Elroy, please, let Wade finish. Wade—” Nathan invited him to continue.
“Thank you, Nathan. The contract to ship the army’s payroll south.”
“But I thought you said that Miss Morgan had the news?” another man questioned.
“She does, and she’ll tell you in just a moment. I wanted to let you know what we have been doing and how we came to be involved in this situation.”
“Is the payroll in greenbacks or gold?”
“Usually gold, but at this point either will do for our purposes.”
“What can we do to help?” Gordon asked, glad at last to have some idea of how to help the South.
Wade and Nathan smiled at his enthusiasm. “Annabelle, if you’d like to address the men, now?”
“Yes, Father.” Rising from her seat, she faced the room full of men. “Gentlemen. I am, as you know, Annabelle Morgan.”
The men were courteous, but openly doubtful of her ability to help them. For she was, after all, only a woman. Beautiful though she might be—and she was beautiful, for her silver-blond hair set her apart from the crowd and her petite figure was, no doubt, the envy of many women of more statuesque proportions—Annabelle was an unknown quantity to them, and they listened to her attentively.
“When my father and Captain MacIntosh were discussing ways to get information about the gold shipments, I offered to help them. They, like you, were skeptical of my help, but I think I’ve won their confidence and I hope I can convince you, too, of my sincerity, and competence.”
Her businesslike manner was a shock to some of the men, who were used to subservient, submissive females, but they held their tongues, knowing that Nathan Morgan was a powerful, influential man.
Annabelle took a moment to survey their expressions before continuing. Pleased that there was no overt disapproval of her, she went on.
“When the subject of the gold first came up, I was intrigued. We all know how the South is suffering. And it seemed to me that this would be the best, most direct way we could help. With gold the necessary supplies and arms could be purchased. And with that kind of help we can defeat the Yankees and drive them from our homeland!”
Her statements drew a cheer from the group and she paused until they were once again quiet.
“Captain MacIntosh has been instrumental in locating the information I needed. And once I knew who was in charge it was a simple matter.” She smiled warmly at Wade. “As of this afternoon, I am the betrothed of Captain James Westlake, the owner and captain of the steamship Enterprise. The Enterprise, by the way, is the boat that carries the bullion south.”
The men regarded her with open admiration.
“Don’t you feel you’re sacrificing yourself?”
“There is no sacrifice too great for the Cause!” she returned.
“Hear, hear!” they cheered her.
When they had quieted, she continued, “I don’t have everything we need yet, but I’m sure I will before too long.”
“We don’t have a lot of time, you know. Vicksburg could fall at any moment, and, if Vicksburg goes, I’m afraid all is lost.” Another man spoke his worries out loud.
“I have Captain Westlake’s complete trust and admiration,” she told them confidently. “I see no problem in getting the final pieces of information we need…when the gold goes, how big the guard is, and how much is actually being carried. If you will give me your complete trust, then I solemnly promise you that I will do everything in my power to provide you with the necessary facts. After that, it’s up to you.”
The men sat silently as she concluded and returned to her seat by her father.
“Gentlemen? Do you agree this is a risk worth taking?” Gordon asked. When they gave their approval, he turned to Annabelle and Nathan. “We support you fully, Miss Morgan, and we appreciate your sacrifice for the Cause.”
Chapter Three
Despite the lateness of the hour, the streets along the riverfront were busy. Delight, effectively disguised as a youth, made her way through the milling crowds of rowdy river boatmen trying desperately not to attract undue attention to herself.
From the upper windows of the bawdy houses, ladies of the night called out lewd invitations to the passing deckhands, tempting the men who were passing by with explicit accounts of their prowess and promising them a rollicking good roll for a nominal fee. At another time, Delight would have stared in astonishment at this bold open haggling, but right now she was so exhausted that she paid little attention.
Delight thought she was doing an admirable job of keeping panic at bay until a raucous voice above her singled her out.
“Hey, laddie! Tasted a good woman yet?”
At Delight’s mumbled husky, “No,” the prostitute laughed loudly.
“Then come on up, sugar. I can teach you at lot! I’ll keep you warm, too!”
Nervous, Delight hurried on, trying to ignore the ribald comments the whore yelled at her.
Ducking into an alley, she slumped against the rough brick wall. Berating herself, she wondered what she’d been thinking of when she’d come down to the wharf…how could she have forgotten that it was the roughest part of town?
Exhausted and cold, Delight determined it was time to find a place to spend the night. Hauling herself upright, she shoved her hands deep into the pockets of the patched, almost too-small boy’s jacket she wore. She had barely left the safety of the dark gangway when she heard two leering, conspiratorial voices.
“Hey, Archie! Look what we got here!”
Archie chortled to his companion, “What ya hidin’ out in the dark alley for, boy?”
Delight froze momentarily at their verbal assault and then started to flee, but the drunken roustabouts were too fast for her. A hamlike fist grabbed her and threw her back against the side of the building.
“Let me go!” she hissed. “I ain’t done nuthin’!”
“Listen to that high voice, Sam,” Archie smirked. “Why the kid’s voice ain’t even changed yet!”
“Must be a young un,” Sam deduced. “Ya got any money, kid?”
He loomed over her threateningly. “Gimme your money. Archie and I done run a little short.”
“I ain’t got no money,” Delight lied, hoping they wouldn’t find Rose’s coins hidden in her shoe.
“Well, let’s jes’ check them pockets, Sam, and see what this little guy’s got that we can use.”
“NO!” The protest was out before she could stop it. Twisting furiously, Delight squirmed and kicked, trying to break free. “Let me go!”
But the men only laughed, snarling, victorious laughs, that enraged her even more.
“Help!” she yelled as loudly as possible, struggling in helpless frustration.
“Hold still!” Sam commanded, giving her a tooth-rattling shake.
“NO! Let me go!” She finally managed to kick out and her foot made contact with Sam’s shin.
Grunting in painful surprise, the drunk loosened his hold momentarily, and that was all she needed
to break free. With a burst of speed, she fled the scene. And, running as if the devil himself was chasing her, Delight darted out into the main street, dodging horses and carriages in her quest for safety.
“Where’d he go, Sam?” Archie bellowed.
“That way,” Sam pointed, and they followed her down the street in hot pursuit.
The snow was beginning to fall in earnest as Jim and Ollie left the stifling smokiness of Harry’s saloon. They paused only briefly to catch their breath in the frigid winter air before heading back to their home—the steamer Enterprise. It was then that the young boy, running at top speed with his head down and not looking where he was going, collided full force with Jim, jolting them both.
Delight looked up into a pair of warm brown eyes, as strong yet gentle hands helped to balance her. “Hold on there, boy. What’s your rush?”
“Sorry,” she mumbled, remembering to keep her tone husky.
“There he is! Get him, Sam!” Archie’s strident shout reached Delight.
Looking back nervously, she tore herself free from the big man’s steadying grip and dashed down a nearby gangway.
Jim and Ollie exchanged quixotic glances before stepping forward to block the path of the two drunken louts.
“Two on one’s a little unfair, don’t you think, Ollie?” Jim folded his arms across his broad chest and glared at the two rowdies.
Ollie shifted his stance defensively. “I sure do. What do you two want with the boy?”
“He done robbed us!!!” Archie lied.
“And he attacked me!” Sam embellished.
“I find that a little hard to believe,” Jim taunted, eyeing their bulk. “Get out of here and leave the boy alone or I’ll make sure you never work on this riverfront again.”
“Sez who?” Archie challenged drunkenly, swaggering bravely forward.
“Me,” Jim replied quietly, and he was ready when the roustabout swung at him wildly.
With cold precision, Jim’s right upper cut laid Archie low as a stunned Sam looked on.
“You were leaving?” Jim asked sarcastically.
Sam jumped into action and helped Archie to his feet. He guided him away, and they both glared resentfully over their shoulders at Jim and Ollie.
“Nothing like a little surprise to stir up your blood,” Jim grinned, turning, but he was surprised to find that Ollie had disappeared down the heavily shadowed passage in search of the youth.
Following, Jim heard their voices ahead of him in the darkness.
“You can come out now,” Ollie was saying in a reassuring tone. “The captain and I took care of them.”
The sound of a creaking crate was followed by the boy’s respectful reply. “Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome, son. But what are you doing down here? This is no place for a youngster,” Ollie scolded him, judging his age to be no more than fourteen or fifteen.
“I found that out, sir. I’ll be going now.”
Jim somehow sensed the youth’s nervousness as he joined them. “Where are you going? Home?”
“I don’t have a home. I take care of myself,” Delight replied bravely.
“Well, it doesn’t look like you’re doing too good a job,” Jim said sarcastically, staring at the boy’s dirt-streaked face. “What’s your name?”
Delight panicked—a name! Grasping for an idea, she blurted out, “Del Murphy.”
Jim studied the boy thoughtfully. “You need a job, Del Murphy?”
For the first time that night, hope flared within her. “Yes, sir!” Delight answered eagerly. Then, feeling Jim’s eyes upon her, she shifted uncomfortably. The man had the most piercing gaze…it was almost as if he could see right inside of her…as if he knew her most intimate secrets.
“What do you think, Ollie? I do still need a cabin boy.”
“He’s a little on the skinny side, but I guess he’ll do.” Ollie voiced his opinion, feeling a certain empathy for the youth. It was rough to be alone in the world. Especially in the wintertime.
Delight looked back and forth at the two men, trying to judge their thoughts.
“All right. But one question first.” Jim was serious and he drew the boy’s full attention. “Murphy—did you steal anything from those two men? I want the truth.”
Standing straighter, her chin tilting in pride, Delight looked him in the eye. “No, sir. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.”
“You’ve got yourself a job. But Murphy…”
“Yes, sir?”
“If I ever find out that you’ve lied to me…” Jim threatened.
Delight nodded nervously, all the while wondering what she’d gotten herself into.
“Yes, sir. I understand,” Delight answered quickly when she realized that he was expecting a reply.
“Good. You’ll be working for me on my steamer, the Enterprise. I’m Jim Westlake, the captain, and this is Oliver Fitzgerald, my first mate. We run from St. Louis to New Orleans when the river’s open, but right now we can only get a little south of Memphis.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
Delight was dumbfounded at the discovery that Jim Westlake was one of her rescuers, and she wondered if her life could possibly get any more complicated. Though she had never met him in person before, she was friends with Renee Westlake, and Renee had spoken often and proudly of her brother-in-law Jim, who captained a steamboat. Groaning inwardly, Delight braced herself for the arduous task ahead…keeping her identity concealed.
“Well, let’s get on back to the boat and warm up,” Ollie encouraged.
“Let’s go, Murphy.” Jim and Ollie led the way down the snow-trodden street.
Delight found it remarkably easy to keep up with them in the snow without the cumbersome weight of her skirts and petticoats. Hurrying along behind, she concentrated on the rhythm of their manly gait and tried to imitate their purposeful strides. She knew that if she could successfully master their walk, she’d be able to fool anybody from a distance. But close up—well, she’d worry about that later, although she was sure her disguise was pretty effective, for neither man had given her more than a second glance.
Chapter Four
The furious pounding on the door brought Rose upright in her bed, and, clutching her quilt about her, she ventured into the sitting room.
“Open up, Rose,” Martin ordered arrogantly. “I know she’s in there.”
“Martin? What do you want?”
“I want to talk to you.”
“Why?”
“I’ll tell you as soon as you let me in.”
“Just a minute,” she called out, stalling, not wanting to face him in her present state of undress.
“Well, hurry it up or I’ll break the damn door down.”
Lighting a lamp, she pulled on her dress and fastened it quickly, knowing full well that Martin could very easily force his way in. Girding herself, she went back to admit the hated man to her house.
As soon as Rose had slid the bolt free, the door was slung violently open, crashing against the wall. Stepping into the room, his manner overbearing, he glanced around, searching for some sign of Delight. When he could find no trace of her, Martin directed his attention back to Rose, surveying her worn dress and work-reddened hands.
Smirking at her obvious poverty and glad that she was suffering, Martin faced her squarely. “All right, Rose, where is she?”
“Who?” Rose’s innocent answer did sound convincing, but Martin didn’t hesitate in his purpose.
“There’s no point in playing games with me. We both know she came here and—”
“Who came here?” Rose cut him off in agitation.
“Delight,” Martin responded through gritted teeth, growing angrier by the minute.
“Delight, here? No, Martin. I haven’t seen her,” she maintained steadily, not retreating from his obvious anger.
“Don’t lie, Rose. She had nowhere else to go.”
“Obviously, she did, because she didn’t come here.” Se
nsing his barely restrained violence, she countered, “Go ahead and search the place if you don’t believe me.”
“I don’t believe you, Rose. And I think I will take a look around.” Stalking past her, he explored the back room.
Rose’s blue eyes were frosty with dislike when he returned to her. “Did you find her?”
“No, but—”
“Then get out of my house, Martin Montgomery, and don’t ever come back,” she ordered, unafraid of this spineless man, who preyed on helpless women.
Martin, recognizing her disdain, decided to put the smart-mouthed wench in her place. With lightning speed, he grasped her wrists and wrenched her closer to him.
“I’ll go when I’m ready,” he sneered, enjoying her struggle to free herself from his painful grip. “But remember this moment. Rose. For I could have you right now, if I wanted you.” Then, with seemingly little effort, he shoved her away. “But I don’t want you. You’re old and you look it.” He let his critical gaze sweep over her, taking in her tired features and her too-thin body. “No. You don’t have to worry about that. No self-respecting man would ever want to have anything to do with you.”
“Get out,” she seethed, rubbing her bruised wrists. Rose was furious that he’d been able to manhandle her so easily.
Indolently straightening his coat, he looked at her coldly once again. “Tell Delight that I’m looking for her and that I won’t quit until she’s back home where she belongs.” Then, turning on his heel, he was gone, the only reminder of his visit the livid welts on Rose’s arms.
As the sound of her father’s footsteps ascending the staircase echoed into the study, Annabelle smiled invitingly at Wade.
“I thought he’d never leave,” she complained sensuously.
“If you’d marry me, we wouldn’t have these problems.”
Wade’s words sounded lighthearted, but Annabelle knew that he was serious.
“Wade—” she began, her tone brooking no comment, “we’ve been through this before, and you know how I feel about marriage. Let’s just enjoy the relationship we have.”
Wade didn’t respond as he poured them both a brandy and carried the crystal snifters back to her. He had loved Annabelle for a long time now, and he would never give up hope that one day she would change her mind about marriage. He didn’t know why she never wanted to wed; he just knew that it was the one subject she absolutely refused to discuss with him.
