The River Palace: A Water Wheel Novel #3

by Gilbert, Morris

  Slowly she said, “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

  “I think if you’ll just relax and give it a chance you’ll find it’s just as easy as talking to customers at Market. And you’re great at that. Just like you’re great at everything you do.”

  “That’s silly,” she scoffed. “No one is great at everything they do.”

  “Ho-kay. At least you didn’t call me a dinili gajo. I’m making progress,” Gage joked.

  Sharply she asked, “Making progress at what?”

  “Uh—it’s just a figure of speech.”

  They both turned to watch the scene, and it was a comfortable silence. The moon was a lopsided three-quarter, and the sky was so clear it seemed the points of the stars could be seen. They were traveling a straight stretch of the river, heavily forested on both sides. Although the Mississippi River was known as the Big Muddy, at night it glimmered cleanly from the ship’s thousand lanterns.

  “It’s so different,” Nadyha said softly. “Ever since we got past Baton Rouge the land looks so strange to me. Even the sky looks different, the sun and the moon and the stars.”

  “I have a theory about that,” Gage said dreamily. “It may be nonsense, but I believe it’s true. I used to look up at the stars and the moon from battlefields in Virginia, and I thought they looked harder and colder and farther away. I believe that because the air in southern Louisiana is so humid, so filled with tiny water droplets all the time, that it magnifies the sky. It softens the moon, makes it look bigger, gives it a luminous halo. And the stars look like diamonds shimmering underwater.”

  She looked at him curiously. “I think that is a beautiful thought. I believe it too.”

  “Good. Then if the two of us agree, maybe it is true. Uh, since we’re getting along so well, there is something I’d like to ask you, Nadyha. It’s a really big favor, but I’ve found out it never hurts to ask.”

  She looked amused. “No, I promise I won’t hurt you just for asking. Asking what?”

  Gage hesitated, then said, “Would you help me with my show? Mirella’s helping Niçu, you know, and I could use an assistant. It’s a big thing, I know, because you’re such a huge star and all, and I’m just plain ol’ Gage Kennon the Dead-Eye Sharpshooter, but it wouldn’t be much for you to do, just sort of help me with—uh—I thought of a couple of things—but you probably—”

  “I heard you tell Denny once that he was blathering on and on,” Nadyha said, deadpan. “You’re blathering on and on, Gage. Yes. I’ll be glad to be your assistant.”

  “Huh?”

  Carefully enunciating, she said, “Yes. I will be glad to be your assistant.”

  “You will?” he said, astounded.

  “For the third time, yes.”

  “Oh. Oh! Great, that’s fantastic! Thanks, Nadyha, I really appreciate it. Can we—can I show you what I want you to do? Now, I mean?”

  “If we can do it up here,” Nadyha said. “I don’t want to be shut up in even my palace of a stateroom for any longer than I have to.”

  “Sure we can! I’ll go get my stuff, and some lanterns, and everything we need. Say, why don’t we bring Anca and Boldo up here? They probably would like to get out of the palace for awhile too.”

  Nadyha laughed, that delightful genuine sound that Gage had come to love. “I think you love them almost as much as I do, Gage Kennon. Yes, I’d love to have Anca and Boldo up here with us. Thank you.”

  He dashed toward the stairs but then turned and said softly, “You know, Nadyha, you’re dead wrong about one thing. I know you, the real Nadyha. And I’m a gaje and I care about you.”

  Before she could respond he had turned and hurried away.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  It was a bright, sparkling morning when the Queen of Bohemia docked at Natchez, Mississippi. As always in a river town, the wharves were teeming. The Queen herself was like a stirred-up beehive, too, with some passengers disembarking, some coming on board, and all the while roustabouts trying to load up tons of wood for her ravenous boilers.

  Above it all, on the Hurricane Deck, Nadyha watched all the activity far below her. Soon after they came to a full stop she was joined by Stephen Carruthers, the first pilot of the Queen. Denny had introduced them to the pilots and the engineers, and Carruthers had been very attentive to Nadyha—when he could find her. He was young to be the first pilot of a steamboat such as the Queen of Bohemia, only twenty-five years old. Tall, with far-seeing blue eyes and dark hair, he was a handsome man, and was accustomed to receiving lots of female attention. It fascinated him, and frustrated him, that Nadyha treated him with the same cool courtesy she treated everyone she met.

  He joined her at the side rail and noted that she immediately sidestepped a few inches away from him. He had seen that she always did this whenever anyone, male or female, stood too close to her. “Good morning, Miss Nadyha. So what do you think of Natchez?”

  “Good morning, Mr. Carruthers. I think this is a very strange city.” She pointed first to the docks and the shantytown behind them. “It looks like all of the poor people live there, and the rich people live up there.” She pointed to the city proper, up on the bluffs behind.

  “You’re right about that. Down here, it’s called Natchez-Under-the-Hill. It’s got a wicked reputation, too, even for a river port,” he told her. “But the town, up there, is really beautiful. And it’s very well policed, so it’s safe, not like Under the Hill.”

  “Is it?” she said with interest. “What about over there? What is that pretty little wood up there?”

  “That’s the City Cemetery. I’ve been there, it’s like a lovely, peaceful park. It’s old, too, some of the graves are from the 1700s.”

  “Graves? So they’re buried in the ground?”

  He smiled at her, flashing deep dimples and straight, even white teeth. “I forgot, you’re from New Orleans. Yes, up here you can bury people in the ground and they won’t float back up to haunt you. Would you like to see the city, and the cemetery? We’re going to be here for about four or five hours, getting our wood loaded. I’d consider it an honor if you’d allow me to escort you on a tour, Nadyha.”

  “Thank you, but no,” she said frostily, noting he had inched closer to her and had dropped the “Miss.” “I’m going down to my stateroom now. Good-bye.”

  As usual, she made her whirling exit, leaving the man standing there with his mouth open.

  Anca was sitting out on their balcony, watching the goings-on with interest. Boldo, who had taken over the second bed in the stateroom, was sound asleep. Nadyha stamped out onto the balcony and said to Anca, “What is it about gajes that they think they need to babysit you all the time? It’s ridiculous! I’m a grown woman, and besides that I have a knife and I know how to use it.” Anca’s look seemed to be one of agreement. Nadyha went on in a half-whisper, “And I have a cougar, too . . . Anca, how would you like to go for a walk?”

  Anca had done very well on board the ship as Nadyha walked her on the Promenade Deck. The passengers greeted them with familiarity, but gave them a wide berth, which suited Nadyha just fine. Now Anca did very well in the slum streets of Natchez-Under-the-Hill, padding along beside Nadyha, who held her useless golden leash close. But the people of Natchez-Under-the-Hill didn’t do as well as the passengers on the Queen of Bohemia.

  Men yelped and backed up; the numerous prostitutes screamed and cursed Nadyha; horses shied and panicked. The commotion was loud and spread up and down Silver Street, the main street by the docks that led up to the city of Natchez on the eastern side. Ignoring the hubbub, Nadyha and Anca walked sedately to the west side of Under the Hill, for Nadyha had seen that Silver Street looped around behind and led straight to the City Cemetery.

  Finally they were at the end of the shanties, shacks, brothels, and warehouses that huddled close to the Natchez docks. Climbing the hill, Nadyha breathed deep, for the air was cleaner and much sweeter-smelling than the fug on the docks. On each side of the muddy cart track were open f
ields, filled with black-eyed Susans and colorful lantana bushes and purple coneflowers.

  The cemetery was quiet and deserted. Nadyha and Anca wandered among the graves. Many of the headstones were beautifully carved and had poignant scriptures or sayings on them. Marble benches were placed around. As it was growing warm, Nadyha led Anca to a bench underneath a live oak tree so old that many of the branches nearly touched the ground.

  For awhile Nadyha thought about death. But she was so young, and had such a full and rich life, that she had trouble imagining her own death. She thought, Baba Simza says that young people always think they’re going to live forever. But it’s hard not to think that, when it seems that your whole life, for years and years and years, lies before you . . .

  Then she thought of Gage Kennon. He was on her mind a lot these days. At times it infuriated her that he filled her thoughts so much; at other times she had a somewhat careless attitude about it. After all, he had been such a big part of all of their lives—Baba Simza’s, Niçu’s, and Mirella’s, not just her own—for awhile now. She smiled when she remembered the first time she had seen him. She must have looked as wild and feral as Anca, glaring at him over Baba Simza’s prone body and brandishing her knife. She remembered what he had said: I can help you. It seemed that Gage Kennon said that a lot, to many people. Why was that? Was it because he was a Christian? Nadyha didn’t understand that “giving” part of Gage. Did he just plaster it on when he saw someone in need? Or did it come naturally to him?

  Suddenly she grew exasperated that she’d been sitting there for so long, brooding about Gage Kennon. She hopped up and started wandering among the graves again. Anca walked with her, trailing her leash. Nadyha read a few of them and then abruptly stopped before one sizable white marble headstone. It read simply:

  LOUISE

  The Unfortunate

  Nadyha stared at the simple inscription for a long time. Then, to her consternation, tears filled her eyes.

  “Hey, you! You, girl! Whatcha think you’re doin’?” a loud crude but distant voice yelled.

  Dashing away her tears, Nadyha whirled. Two men were walking along the side of the cemetery grounds, leading their horses. They had on gunbelts with pistols and silver stars pinned on their long frock coats. Nadyha refused to shout back an answer to them like some brawling fishwife, so she picked up Anca’s chain and they walked back to the seat underneath the oak tree to wait for the deputies. Nadyha sat down, and to her everlasting gratification, Anca decided at this time to sharpen her claws on the oak tree. The scratches were about three inches deep, over a foot long, and about six feet from the ground. The two deputies stopped in their tracks about twenty feet from the tree.

  “What do you think I’m doing?” she answered them in a normal voice. “I’m just looking around, enjoying the peace and quiet. At least, I was.”

  One of the deputies, a red-faced man with a big beer belly overhanging his gun belt, stepped just a bit closer. “You cain’t be here with that wild beast, you crazy Gypsy girl! The City of Natchez ain’t no circus, and we don’t want none here neither!”

  “That’s odd, I thought I was in the City Cemetery, not the City of Natchez,” Nadyha said with spirit. “And I’m not with a circus, and neither is my cougar.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Red Face Deputy said. “What you are is disturbin’ the peace, and I’ve of a mind to put you under arrest!”

  “Oh, really? And are you going to put Anca here under arrest too? Go ahead.”

  The two men looked uncertainly at each other.

  The first deputy’s face flushed so dark it was purplish-red now. “Looky here, you smart-mouthed Gypsy tart!” he snarled. “You jist bring that there lion and come along with us. And if he even looks at one of us funny, then I guess we’ll be havin’ to put him down!”

  Nadyha jumped up and crouched directly in front of Anca, drew her knife, and said with gritted teeth, “If you so much as touch your gunbelt, this knife will end up right in one of your hearts! Then Anca will kill the other one! And that’s how this story will end!”

  Now the other deputy, a younger man, slender and with a homely, honest face, stepped forward with his hands raised up in surrender. “Whoa, whoa, there, ma’am. Let’s all just calm down here. Roy, what’s the matter with you? Ain’t gonna be no killing of nobody or nothing here. Please, ma’am, just sit back down and put away your knife and we’ll talk about this all quiet and nice-like. Please?”

  Nadyha kept her flinty gaze trained on “Roy.” He grimaced, gave the younger deputy a dirty look, then made a small waving gesture. “Ain’t nobody gonna hurt your cougar if he don’t hurt nobody first,” he grumbled. “But you don’t need to be a-wavin’ a knife around at dooly appointed deputy sheriffs, neither.”

  Slowly Nadyha sheathed her knife. With her arm around Anca’s neck she knelt beside her. The younger deputy said, “That’s much better, thank you, ma’am. I’m Deputy Bart Ingram, and this here’s Deputy Roy Maltby. Ma’am, just exactly what are you doing running around here with a mountain lion? I know there ain’t no Gypsies buried here. Where are your people?”

  “My people are on the Queen of Bohemia,” Nadyha said, tossing her head.

  The two deputies looked at each other and Maltby burst out into guffaws. “Yeah, and my people live in a pink castle and ride unicorns!” he brayed. Then sobering, he said to Ingram, “What a bunch of hooey! A pack of Gypsies on the Queen of Bohemia! I say we arrest her right now, see what her story is after spending the night with the lady jailbirds from Under the Hill!”

  “Okay,” Ingram said, shrugging. “I’ll arrest the girl and you arrest the cougar.”

  The two deputies stared at each other with uncertainty again.

  DEPUTY ROY MALTBY DID not have an easy time of it when he visited the Queen of Bohemia.

  First he was stopped on the grand staircase by the Chief Steward, who informed him that third-class passengers were directed to use the outside entrances. Deputy Maltby informed the Chief Steward that if he didn’t get to talk to someone in charge of this here boat in one minnit or less’n he’d arrest ’em all.

  The Chief Steward hurried to fetch Captain Humphries, who huffily escorted Deputy Maltby to Zedekiah Wainwright’s stateroom. Denny was visiting his uncle, and when they heard about the problem, they both laughed uproariously, which didn’t put Deputy Maltby in any better mood.

  “Are you people tellin’ me that that Gypsy wench was tellin’ the truth?” he demanded. “You let dirty Gypsies on this here fine boat?”

  “They’re cleaner than you are,” Denny retorted, eyeing the deputy’s dirty fingernails. “And we’re privileged to have them, they’re performing in an operetta on board.”

  Maltby stared at Denny and his uncle, bug-eyed. “Well that girl cain’t be a-sashayin’ through town all by herself with that lion. It ain’t safe.”

  “We’ll take care of her, don’t worry, I’ll protect you, Deputy Maltby,” Denny said with exasperation. To his uncle he said, “I’ll go get Gage. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it.”

  “Deputy, I’d appreciate it if you’d take special care of Nadyha, she’s the star of my show,” Wainwright said proudly, jamming his ever-present cigar into his mouth.

  “Take keer of her!” Maltby grunted. “If it wasn’t for my buddy Bart I woulda had her in my jail by now. Paradin’ around with a lion in Natchez. And pointin’ a knife at dooly appointed deputies. And disturbin’ the peace.”

  “How can you disturb the peace of a cemetery?” Denny asked. “Never mind, I guess Nadyha can figure out a way. So, Deputy, are you going to accompany me and Mr. Kennon back to rescue you and the other deputy from this dangerous girl?”

  “I’ll ’company you, all right. But if it wasn’t for my buddy Bart—”

  “I know, I know,” Denny said. “We’d all be in your jail by now. We’ll be back soon, Uncle Zeke. And I assume we’ll all be in one piece . . . if Deputy Maltby doesn’t upset Anca too much.”

  Denny fo
und Gage, who was down in the cargo hold keeping Tinar, Saz, and Cayenne company. Like Denny and his uncle, he laughed when he heard the story and saw the sanguine-faced, grumpy deputy. “I’ve got a great idea,” he told Denny. “Let’s go get Niçu. Natchez is going to have a parade like they’ve never seen before!”

  It was quite a procession that wound its way through Natchez-Under-the-Hill and up Silver Street to the City Cemetery. Nadyha was sitting on her marble bench, with Anca lying at her feet in her Sphinx position, facing Deputy Ingram, who still kept a discreet distance. She watched with wry amusement as they neared her.

  First came Niçu, leading Saz, and behind him was Denny, leading Tinar. Then Gage led Cayenne, with Cara riding. Casually Gage came and sat beside Nadyha. “I heard you’re under arrest,” he said, grinning.

  “No, I’m not,” she replied, her eyes dancing. “But Anca is. They just can’t figure out how to take her into custody, dinili shanglo. What are all of you doing here?”

  “We’re taking you back to the Queen of Bohemia in style, Your Majesty. Right down the Main Street of Natchez, Mississippi. Your queenly steed awaits.”

  Doubtfully Nadyha glanced at Deputy Maltby, who was growling in Deputy Ingram’s ear. “But that shanglo, the dirty lalo-faced one, he doesn’t like me and Anca.”

  “He needs to learn to respect his betters,” Gage said, suddenly sharp. “As it happens, Uncle Zeke is friends with the mayor of Natchez, and in fact, the mayor and his family are right now bustling around packing for a free first-class trip to St. Louis. And we’re all invited to parade in Natchez, to advertise the sensational new operetta The Countess and the Gypsy Queen that’s currently being performed on the Queen of Bohemia.”

  IT WAS IMPROMPTU, SO no one really knew who these outrageous people were, but the citizens of Natchez were delighted nonetheless.

  Nadyha was wearing a purple skirt with coins sewn around the hem, a new innovation that she had thought up for the play. Around her small waist was tied a green scarf, and she wore a black puffed-sleeve blouse with a tight-fitting leather vest. Her diklo was multicolored, and was trimmed with real gold coins. She sat sidesaddle on Saz, though that was perhaps a misnomer because she rode bareback. Sitting tall and erect, her slim back ruler-straight, Saz wore neither bridle nor halter; Nadyha merely guided him with one hand lightly grasping his gold-speckled mane. Beside her rode Niçu on Tinar, his dark features seemingly fierce and alien, the razor-sharp churo glittering in the black sash at his waist. Between them Anca marched majestically, her head held high, looking neither to the right or the left.