by Bobbi Smith
Angry at Jim for his sarcastic comments, angry at herself for being so clumsy in his presence, and angry at life in general for the cruel twists of fate of these past days, she yanked on her boots and struggled into her coat. Stomping out of her room in a small display of bruised pride, she glared over in the direction of Jim’s desk, only to be jolted by the unexpected presence of Mark Clayton.
“I’ll be right back, Captain,” she muttered. Quickly looking away to hide her fright, she left the cabin.
“I would say your cabin boy doesn’t like to get up in the middle of the night,” Mark laughed after she had disappeared out the door.
“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Jim chuckled. “But he’s a good worker.”
“Kind of young, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is. But Ollie and I found him wandering the docks getting into all kinds of trouble.”
“He’s lucky you were the one who found him.”
Jim nodded, “I wonder where he’d be now if we hadn’t brought him back….”
“Probably dead,” Mark said seriously. “Young boys don’t last long down on the riverfront. It was bad before the war, but it’s worse now.”
“I’m sure he didn’t realize what really could have happened to him.” Jim finished off his drink and looked pointedly at the empty bottle sitting on his desk. With a grin, he added, “And he has no conception of what will happen to him now if he doesn’t get back here with that fresh bottle, and soon.”
Just as he spoke the door flew open and Delight rushed into the room, slamming the door behind her. She had pulled on her stocking cap to cover her hair and she hoped that the cold had reddened her cheeks and nose enough to help with her camouflage.
“Here you are, Captain.” She thrust the bottle at Jim, carefully keeping her face averted from Mark.
“Thank you, Murphy. You can go back to bed now.”
“Yes, sir.” She headed for the door to her room, tugging off her coat.
Jim watched her progress for a minute and a thought struck him. “Murphy?”
Delight halted, wondered what he could possibly want now. “Yes?”
“You look atrocious. Do you sleep in your clothes every night?”
She turned slowly to face him, anger and embarrassment warring within her. “Yes, sir. It’s cold.” Delight wanted to add “in case you didn’t notice,” but she held her tongue.
“You didn’t get a nightshirt while you were out.”
“No, sir.”
“Well, why not?” Jim sounded aggravated.
Delight had the urge to tell him why not in no uncertain terms, but again she held herself in restraint. Sounding like the humble servant boy she was supposed to be, she said calmly, “You said only to buy a change of clothes and a coat, sir, and I didn’t have any money of my own.”
Jim felt inexplicably irritated at Ollie’s lack of foresight. “Wait a minute.” Rising from his seat, he went to his trunk and pulled out one of his own nightshirts. “Here, wear this. It’s bound to be way too big, but at least you won’t look like you just climbed out of bed all day long.” He tossed the long flannel sleeping garment to her.
Delight deftly caught it, and, clutching it with two hands, thanked him solemnly. “Good night, sir.”
“Good night, Murphy.”
When the door between the rooms closed behind her, Mark looked at Jim and smiled. “I think Murphy has a bad case of hero worship.”
Jim looked startled. “Why?”
“Didn’t you see the look in his eyes?”
“No, I didn’t pay any attention.”
“He’s obviously very impressed with you, and, if I read him right, he’ll be devoted to you for the rest of your life.”
Jim gave Mark a strange look. “I like the boy. He’s honest and industrious, and I’m proud of the way he’s handling himself. I don’t think most youngsters would be able to handle everything that Murphy’s had to deal with.”
“Well, what ever,” Mark went on, changing the subject. “Tell me more about your engagement. We didn’t get a lot of time to talk the other day.”
As their voices droned on into the night, Delight climbed back into bed wrapped in the voluminous folds of Jim’s nightshirt. The soft, well-worn flannel felt like a caress against her bare skin, and she luxuriated in the faint manly scent that clung to the garment and reminded her of him. She felt safe…protected. And, hugging the material close to her, she closed her eyes and fell asleep, lulled into forgetfulness by the indistinct, mellow tone of his voice.
Her mind played tricks on her the rest of the night as it conjured up images of Jim. Jim as he had been that morning—Jim dressed in his evening clothes—Jim as she had seen him that afternoon when he’d helped to move some merchandise on the main deck, his coat discarded, his muscles straining against the fine material of his shirt. An unfamiliar ache grew within her as her body responded to him, and, as he bent to kiss her in her dream, she came awake, at once both startled and disappointed.
With a groan of total frustration, she sat up. Drawing her knees to her chest, Delight hugged them to her and shook her head in mute denial. The feelings she had for Jim were strong and growing more powerful all the time. How long could she keep them hidden from him? Tears fell as she realized the hopelessness of her situation. She would never have the opportunity to be with him as a woman…to know the joy of being in his arms.
Trying to shake off the depression that threatened, Delight climbed out of bed and stripped off the nightshirt. Folding it with loving care, she laid the makeshift gown upon her pillow and then hurried to dress in her own nondescript clothes.
It was still dark as she left her cabin and threaded her way carefully through Jim’s. Delight paused only long enough to make certain that she hadn’t disturbed him before leaving the stateroom.
Crossing the deck, Delight inhaled deeply of the cool, humid air. Though they had only been on the river for a little over a day, the temperature had risen steadily, and it was now almost mild as she stood at the rail and tried to relax. She had no idea of the time, but she knew instinctively that it would soon be dawn.
Sighing, she turned her back to the passing blackness of the river-night and stared at the cabin door. She felt almost as if she was in a maze with no way out. She loved Jim Westlake, of that she had no doubt. And, even though he teased her in his own gruffly good-natured way, she felt secure in his presence. True, she was still nervous around him, but she recognized now that it was her own reaction to his vibrant maleness that disturbed her, not Jim himself.
With that knowledge came a certain peace of mind. Though she couldn’t reveal herself to him, she could enjoy the relationship they did have and only hope that some way, some day, she would be able to tell him the truth.
Chapter Ten
Jim stood in the pilot house watching attentively as St. Louis came into view. Usually he was glad to see his hometown, for it meant an end to another successful run, but today his feelings were mixed. He was tense. He had been ever since leaving Memphis, and it was not because of business.
Leaving the room abruptly, he sought a secluded place to sort out his feelings. He knew Ollie would be in the bar, but he had no desire to talk to him. It had been Ollie’s earlier remarks about his engagement coupled with his memory of Annabelle’s reluctant embrace that created the disquiet he was now experiencing.
Jim caught sight of Murphy heading into the Grand Salon, so he went back up to his cabin and locked the door. Hanging up his coat, he pulled his bottle of scotch out of the bottom desk drawer and poured himself a good-sized drink. Sitting down at the desk, he turned the chair to face the bunk and rested his feet upon his bed.
Doubts assailed him. Was he doing the right thing, or was Ollie right? Should he wait for love or marry Annabelle because he thought it was the sensible thing to do? He had no answers. He knew he didn’t care for her in the same way he had cared for Renee. But wasn’t that feeling something that only happened once in a lifeti
me?
Jim drained his glass and poured one more, glad that he finally had this time to himself. They had been so busy for the entire trip that he had had little time to think about anything but business. Between dealing with Mark and the gold on the way downstream and working closely with Murphy on the way back home, he had been constantly with people. It felt good to disappear for a while and let the rest of the crew handle things.
Leaning back wearily, he sought the answers to his questions once more. Ollie was his good friend, and he had been right to press him on the question of whether he loved Annabelle or not. But love was not the only reason people married. They married for companionship, to have children, for money…but what ever the reasons, most married people seemed reasonably happy, and Jim had no cause to think that his marriage to Annabelle would be any different.
Feeling that the issue was decided, he breathed a little easier. Not that he wouldn’t miss his bachelor days, but he felt that there was something missing in his life. He had accomplished all the other major goals he’d set for himself, and having a family was the only thing left that he hadn’t done. He had made a complete success of his business and had become so proficient at his job that even the enjoyment he got out of that had faded in recent years. And, while carrying the Union’s bullion was a challenge, His homecomings had become something of an anticlimax.
He felt acertain dissatisfaction with the way he’d been living, and he was sure that a warm and willing wife would make the difference. And Annabelle was the perfect choice. After all, she was the most beautiful woman he could find. What better criteria for picking the future mother of his children?
Telling himself that he had done the right thing, and putting aside the negative feelings he had about Annabelle’s reaction to his touch, Jim left the cabin and went back out on deck. The boat had docked and the roustabouts were busy tying the thick ropes to the heavy metal rings buried deep in the wharf.
“Captain!” Murphy’s voice reached Jim as he stood staring out into the busy throng of people on the riverfront.
“What is it, Murphy?” He turned to face the youth, who was hurrying to his side.
“I’ve been looking all over for you. Ollie said he needed to see you right away.”
“Where is he?”
“Still in the saloon, sir.”
“Fine, tell him I’ll…” Jim was interrupted by a woman’s call.
“Jim!”
He looked up to see Annabelle sitting in an open carriage, waving to him.
“Ollie will have to wait,” Jim said abruptly as he walked off toward the woman. Striding down the deck, he quickly left the boat and made his way across the cobblestones to her conveyance.
Delight stood alone on board, watching him. She bit her lip to stem the tide of tears that threatened. So that was the fair Annabelle Morgan.…Swallowing with great difficulty, she followed his progress until he reached the carriage and took her hand. It was too hard for Delight to watch any further and she fled the scene, wishing that she had never seen them together. It would have been easier then to imagine that Annabelle didn’t truly exist.
Jim lifted Annabelle’s hand to his lips and smiled at her. “This is an unexpected pleasure.”
“I was hoping you’d be back today. Our party is tomorrow, and I was worried that you’d been detained,” Annabelle told him. She didn’t mention that she had used his return as an excuse to haunt the riverfront for the last few days in hopes of finding out some other valuable bits of information.
“We picked up a little more business than I had expected,” he explained briefly.
“No matter. Things have worked out very well.”
“I’m glad. What time shall I come by?”
“The party begins at eight, so anytime before that will be fine. Can you stop by tonight?”
“It looks doubtful at this point. We’ve just docked and there’s a lot of last-minute things I have to take care of personally. Let’s just plan on tomorrow.”
Annabelle pouted prettily. “Well, all right, but it would be good to spend some time with you before the party.”
“I’ll see if I can make it over for a little while tonight,” he said, pleased.
“Good,” she smiled. “Until tonight, then?”
“Until tonight.”
He leaned forward to kiss her, but Annabelle quickly offered him her cheek. And, with a wave of her hand, she directed the driver to head home, leaving Jim standing alone on the wharf. He watched her vehicle disappear behind the stacks of merchandise and then turned back to his ship, wondering at the odd, empty feeling inside him.
Chapter Eleven
He was gone….
Delight stood looking at the door that had just closed behind Jim, her expression one of distraught frustration. Now what? The question was riveted in her mind, leaving her with no answers…no solutions. After tonight, he would be officially engaged to another woman.
Delight wanted to scream that it wasn’t fair. She had given up her home…her mother…but did she have to give up the man she now knew she loved without a fight? Didn’t she deserve some happiness in her life?
She searched her memories of their time on the boat. The hours under his tutelage had been exquisite torture for her…being constantly close to him…listening to every word and trying to impress him with her intelligence. For, after all, as a boy there was nothing else she could do.
Was it possible that she could have done anything differently during their long days together? And if she had, would it have changed what was happening tonight? In all honesty, she had to admit that there had been nothing else she could do. She was caught in a role from which there was no escape. To Jim she would always be Murphy, the cabin boy.
Moving to the bed, she picked up his hastily discarded clothes and mechanically began to hang them up. He had looked so attractive in his evening attire. What woman wouldn’t want him? And Annabelle Morgan…Delight wondered if the woman really appreciated the man she was going to marry. Jealousy flared as Delight thought of Jim in a heated embrace with his fiancée.
She finished straightening up his cabin without conscious thought and then stood looking helplessly around for something more to do. Jim had told her to take the night off, but there was nowhere else she wanted to be…nothing else she wanted to do than to be near him. The knock at the cabin door made her jump, and she turned guiltily as it opened.
“Jim?” Ollie stuck his head inside. “Oh, Murphy, is he gone already?”
“He just left about five minutes ago.” Her tone was less than enthusiastic.
“Damn.” Ollie frowned and came into the room, closing the door behind him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing…” He shrugged. “Listen, why don’t you come on up to my cabin and we can talk for a while?”
She brightened at the thought of Ollie’s company. “I’d like that.” Being with him might just keep her mind off of Jim.
“Well, get your coat. I’ll wait for you.”
Delight hurried into her own room to grab her jacket and soon was following Ollie down the cold, windswept deck to his room. Once inside, they shed their coats and sat down in relaxed comfort. Delight had come to admire and respect this older man who was her friend, and she gave him a friendly grin as he produced a bottle of bourbon from his trunk of belongings.
“Ever had a drink, Murphy?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
“No…” Her eyes widened at the thought.
“Well, it’s time you did. How old are you now?”
“I’ll be fifteen in July,” she told the half truth easily.
“That sounds old enough to me. Want to try?”
She looked startled for a minute and then smiled broadly. “Why not?”
Chuckling, he poured them both a liberal amount into two tumblers that he produced as if by magic, and then, handing her one, said, “Here you go. Drink up.” Ollie tilted his head back and downed his whiskey in one swallow. Then, lev
eling Murphy with a serious look, he encouraged him, saying, “Your turn.”
Delight looked from the glass to her friend and then aped his method of drinking. She was rewarded by a violent coughing spasm, followed by tears and choking.
“You should have warned me!” she protested when she could finally speak.
“Every man has to learn his own way. If I had told you it’d burn all the way to the pit of your stomach, you probably wouldn’t have wanted to try. Right?”
“I sure would have given it a second thought,” she grinned, holding out her glass for more. The burning had turned to a comforting warmth and she felt no fear of trying again. This new boldness she was discovering about herself pleased her, and she watched with interest as Ollie filled her glass another time with the golden liquid.
“You’re sure about this refill?”
“Why not? The worst is over, right?”
“I like your style, boy. You’re not afraid of anything,” Ollie complimented.
“Not anymore,” she bragged, the mellow effects of the whiskey making her feel confident.
Forgetting herself for a moment, she sipped at the drink, her thoughts miles away with Jim and his soon-to-be fiancée.
“Murphy, sometimes you’re too damned pretty to be a boy,” Ollie remarked sagely.
His statement jerked her back to the present and she gave him a vicious frown.
“Don’t worry. There’s nothing girlish about you.” Ollie laughed heartily at the youth’s reaction.
“Thanks,” she growled in her best imitation of youthful embarrassment, not knowing whether to be upset or glad at his assessment. “Nothing girlish—really!”
Ollie drained another drink and poured himself some more. “You know, I think our captain is making a big mistake.”
The mention of Jim drew her immediate attention and she looked at him questioningly. Ollie had never talked much of Jim to her before, and she was ready to hang on his every word.
