Love Inspired Historical November 2014

by Danica Favorite

  She drew in a breath. “I’m all right, Clay. We will win.”

  His smile said he believed her.

  Always before, Captain Windsor had ordered the ship to slow as they entered port. This time, the Continental flew across the water, the land rushing toward them. Allie heard the engine ratchet back only as they neared moorage beside the dock.

  Thank You, Lord!

  Clay removed his hand from hers to set Gillian down on the deck. Allie released the railing and was surprised to see it impressed across her palms.

  “We did it,” she said.

  Clay’s eyes didn’t light. Instead, his gaze was fixed at the bow. Turning, Allie saw Maddie and Catherine hurrying back toward them.

  “You should see the welcoming party,” Maddie cried as she reached their sides. “They came a-running from every building in town, so they did, as if we’d scored a great victory.”

  Allie could only feel relief at their escape. She handed the glasses to Catherine. “You can stow these now, midshipman.”

  Catherine’s blue eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Aye, aye, ma’am.” She curtsied to Gillian. “With your kind permission, of course, Captain Howard.”

  But Gillian was frowning. “The boat is still rumbling.” She stomped her little black boot on the deck as if to prove it.

  Allie frowned, as well. Now that she concentrated, she could hear the low throb of the steam engine.

  “Sure’n our good captain is prepared to make a quick escape if need be,” Maddie guessed, glancing between her friends.

  Catherine picked up her skirts. “I intend to find out.” She marched down the deck for the wheelhouse.

  Clay laid his hand on Allie’s shoulder. “We’ll be fine, Allie. I could feel your prayers. We arrived here safe because of them.”

  Oh, if only that were true. She had prayed with all her might, but the Lord could surely only see her prayers as feeble, hindered by fears that refused to leave her even now. She pulled down on the white cuffs of her dress. I lifted my petitions to You, Lord. Help me let go of these concerns, about the Spaniards, about the future, about Clay. Help me do Your will, whatever it is.

  “Her ladyship isn’t pleased,” Maddie murmured, and Allie saw Catherine hurrying back toward them.

  “We’re in the wrong port!” she proclaimed, eyes snapping fire over such behavior. “We passed Lota completely and docked at Coronel instead!”

  Clay chuckled. “Good old Yankee ingenuity.”

  “This is no laughing matter,” she scolded him. “Lota is apparently a free port. Coronel is under blockade. That’s why everyone came running to meet us. They haven’t seen a merchant ship in months!”

  Maddie glanced around at the others. “What are we to do? Will they be letting us stay in a blockaded port?”

  “Not if we hope to see Seattle,” Clay said grimly. “Captain Windsor has no choice but to make for open sea once more, try to backtrack to Lota.”

  “Can’t we simply go on?” Allie protested. “Pick up supplies at a port farther north?”

  “The ports nearest here don’t have the coal we need,” Clay answered. “If we don’t refuel at Lota, we’ll soon be reduced to sail alone, and that could slow us down sufficiently that we’d be late arriving in San Francisco.”

  Catherine shook her head. “Reaching San Francisco a week or so behind schedule seems preferable to fighting off the Spanish navy.”

  Clay met her gaze. “We’d reach San Francisco a week after our supplies of food and water run out. I don’t know about you, Catherine, but I’d prefer not to live on fish and salt water for a week.”

  Catherine swallowed as if she felt the same way.

  Allie raised her head. Already, she could feel the ship moving, the bow turning. “The captain’s going to chance it,” she said. “What can we do to help him?”

  Clay reached out and pulled the opera glasses off Catherine’s neck. “Ladies, I’d advise you to barricade yourselves in your staterooms, but I doubt you’ll listen.”

  “See how well you know us, Mr. Howard,” Allie said. “We are going nowhere until we’re safely in Lota.”

  They lined the railing, hands on the wood and gazes out to sea, as if they could will the Continental to the new port. She knew many more prayers joined hers this time.

  The harbor of Coronel was shaped like a heart, with two bowls near shore divided by a low headland and the tip pointing out into deeper waters. As the Continental steamed toward the opening, the Spanish man-o’-war came to rest, blocking her way.

  Clay was once again gazing through the glasses. “Allie, ladies,” he said in his deep rumble, “take Gillian to the lower salon and get under the table.

  Allie blinked at the odd advice. “What?”

  “May I?” Catherine said, reaching for her glasses, and Clay reluctantly surrendered them to her. She took one look, and the glasses fell from her fingers to thud against her chest on their golden chain.

  “She’s opened every porthole,” Catherine said, blanching as she stared wide-eyed at Allie. “She means to fire on us!”

  As if to agree, something whizzed past the bow and sent up a spray as it hit the water. Cries rang out all around.

  Fear stabbed at her, made the day turn a brilliant white. Allie gripped Clay’s hand. “Come with us.”

  He shook his head even as he retrieved Catherine’s glasses with his free hand. “Captain Windsor will need all men to repel boarders. Barricade the stairs. Protect Gillian.”

  “Who’s going to protect you?” Allie protested.

  A whistle split the air, high and keening, and she heard the boom that had caused it. Something flew past to starboard, exploding as it hit the water. The Continental shook.

  “Save us, Lord!” Maddie cried, clasping her hands as screams pierced the air. Nearby, one of the other women crumpled in a faint.

  Catherine raised her head. “I’ll see to her. Allegra, lead the rest to safety.”

  Catherine’s brisk manner pierced the rising panic that had threatened Allie. She nodded agreement, and Catherine hurried toward the fallen passenger. Gillian’s face was white, her eyes like saucers in her round face. Allie picked her up and gave her a fierce hug.

  “It will be all right, darling,” she promised. “Go with Maddie now. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Maddie opened her arms and took the little girl from Allie. She knew what she had to do, what Catherine expected of her, what she expected of herself. But if she was going to die this day or end up in a Spanish prison, there was something she had to do first.

  She turned to Clay, tugged on his arm to take his attention from the enemy ship. His gaze met hers, and she saw his concern.

  “Thank you,” she said, “for listening to me and protecting Gillian. Please come back to us safe.” She stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss against his cheek.

  *

  Clay stood frozen as Allie’s lips touched him. He caught the scent of the lavender she must use to wash her hair. More, he could feel her trembling against him, knew an answering tremor inside him. Though he realized he had to send her to safety, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

  “Go below! Everyone!”

  At the purser’s cry, Clay released Allie. She stared at him as if the kiss had shaken her more than cannon fire.

  He knew how she felt.

  The purser hurried up to them. “Everyone belowdecks. Captain’s orders.”

  Clay put an arm about Allie’s waist. “Do we expect boarders, Mr. Debro?”

  The young officer’s face was white. “I fear so, Mr. Howard. See to your ladies.”

  It was a testimony to the state of Allie’s mind that she did not protest as he led her down to the lower salon.

  The women were gathered in tight groups, some crying, others praying with eyes closed and hands clasped. Catherine had managed to revive the woman who had fainted and get her belowdecks. Now the nurse moved from one group to another, offering smelling salts, checking pulses. Ma
ddie and Gillian stood by the great table, and the little girl ran to Allie the moment their gazes met.

  Allie picked her up and cuddled her close. “I’m here, Gillian. You don’t have to be afraid.”

  Clay wished he believed that. From what he knew about relations between America and Spain, there was every reason for real concern should the Spanish capture the ship.

  Maddie must have thought the same, for she joined them, rubbing the sleeve of her russet gown. “Are they coming for us, then? Will they be carrying us off to Spain and locking us up?”

  Gillian’s lower lip trembled, and Allie sucked in a breath and gathered her closer.

  “Not while I live,” Clay vowed. He knew how much Allie hated his protection, but he couldn’t help himself. He waited for her to rebuke him, but she merely moved closer, her shoulder fitting so easily under his. He slipped his arm about her waist again.

  Boots thundered above, and every gaze turned to the door leading up to the deck. Clay could feel Allie holding her breath. This was madness! He couldn’t sit here, do nothing, while those he loved were in peril.

  He set Allie back from him. “Wait here. I’ll find out what’s happening.”

  Her eyes were huge, like pansies in the snow of her face. He gave her a smile that he hoped would encourage her and turned to head for the door. One of the other women caught his leg as he passed.

  “Don’t go, Mr. Howard,” she said with a sob. “What will we do without your protection?”

  “Protect ourselves,” Allie proclaimed, right behind him.

  Clay whirled. “What are you doing?”

  She ignored him to raise her voice and command the women. “Listen to me. Mr. Howard and I will determine the state of affairs on the deck. As soon as we leave, turn the table on its side and barricade the main stairway. See if you can find something to block the other doors, as well. Ms. O’Rourke has a pistol, and Ms. Stanway can organize a guard.”

  Around the room, women raised their heads. Some looked aghast at her suggestions. Others nodded and began gathering themselves to act.

  The woman who clutched Clay’s leg just stared at Allie, openmouthed. Allie pointed toward Maddie and cried, “Go!” and the lady released Clay to hurry off and join the fight.

  Clay shook his head as he and Allie started for the stair. “You have the temperament of a general, Mrs. Howard.”

  “Honed by years on the battlefield of society,” she agreed. “You haven’t seen a fight until you’ve tangled with a Boston debutante intent on stealing your beau.”

  Despite himself, he chuckled. “Does Maddie even know how to use her pistol?”

  “Certainly,” Allie said, head high. “She told me she shot it once for practice and never reloaded. But don’t tell the others.”

  Especially the Spanish. A shame Clay’s pistol was locked up, but then again he wasn’t sure it was advisable to arm people who had no idea how to use a weapon.

  He wasn’t sure about Allie’s presence, either. As they started up the stairs, he motioned her to silence. Then he lowered himself to crawl up the last few steps. She joined him, head just below his, blue skirts like a waterfall on the stair. Together, they peered out onto the deck.

  A longboat must have brought the Spanish to the Continental, for a young officer and a crew of sailors were standing on the deck. The officer was clean cut, his patrician nose and raven hair proclaiming him a member of one of the finest families. But his crew was another matter, unshaven, unwashed, sunburned, older men with cutlasses held at the ready and pistols thrust in belts or bandoliers.

  “If you can prove you have no support from the traitors in Chile,” the officer was saying to Captain Windsor in English that held only a trace of an accent, “we will consider allowing you to pass.”

  Clay took a deep breath. Mercer may have snatched at money wherever he could find it, but Clay was fairly sure the emigration agent had never approached the Chilean government for support. So long as Captain Windsor’s papers were in order, they might all live to see Seattle.

  Clay slid back a few steps to keep the Spaniards from seeing him.

  “I begin to understand why you do it,” Allie murmured, crawling down the stairs to a stop beside him. “Protect us, I mean. When you care about someone, you can’t bear to see them hurt, can you?”

  “No,” Clay said. “Not in the least. Is that why you kissed me, Allie? Were you worried about me?”

  Her fingers gripped the edge of the closest step. “Don’t ask me my feelings right now. I scarcely know them.”

  He touched her chin, drawing her gaze to his. “I have similar trouble, where you’re concerned.”

  He couldn’t keep himself from leaning closer. Her breath caressed his chin. His lips touched hers, the softness, the warmth. Could she really be his forever?

  “How bad is it?” Maddie asked, creeping up on them.

  Clay pulled away from Allie. His face felt hot, and he wasn’t sure why. Maddie had encouraged him to court Allie. She should be glad to see his efforts bearing fruit.

  “They are ruffians,” Allie reported, and Clay hoped Maddie put her breathlessness down to the tensions of the moment. “But it sounds as if Captain Windsor can prevail.”

  Maddie peered over her shoulder for the deck. “What should we be doing to help?”

  Before Clay could motion them lower still on the stairs, where the thrum of the idling engine would cover their conversation, Allie began to back down. “We must return to the lower salon, tell the others.” She did not look at Clay as she rose to descend the stairs. Her skirts fanned gracefully behind her, but she moved swiftly, as if her message was urgent. Even Maddie frowned before following her.

  Clay shook his head. He should never have kissed her. He’d obviously offended her. But though he knew it was wise to tell the women below stairs that they were safe, he couldn’t help wondering if part of Allie’s hurry was to get away from him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Allie hurried down the stairs, wanting only to put distance between herself and Clay. She should not have given in to the fears of the moment and kissed his cheek, for it was clear that was what had encouraged him to kiss her now. She hadn’t meant to flirt. She had to remember who she was now and where she was going, for her sake and Gillian’s.

  “Who goes there?” Catherine demanded as Allie and Maddie reached the bottom of the stairs, her blue eyes peering over the top of the table that now blocked their way.

  “Allegra Howard,” Allie reported. “And Madeleine O’Rourke.”

  “It’s all right,” Gillian piped up from behind the panel. “It’s Mother.”

  Catherine and another woman slid the table aside just wide enough for Allie and Maddie to squeeze through. Gillian scurried over to Allie, who scooped her up and held her close, inhaling the lavender scent of her golden hair. This is what she needed to feel, this thankfulness for her daughter, this hope for their future.

  Maddie retrieved her pistol from Catherine and took up her spot on guard. The other women hurried forward to meet Allie, begging to hear what was happening on deck.

  “The Spanish officer is examining the Continental’s papers,” Allie explained as she carried Gillian deeper into the room. “As soon as he’s satisfied, we’ll be free to go.”

  Cries of relief echoed on all sides. Allie wasn’t sure how Maddie heard the noise on the stairs, but she could see her friend raising the pistol toward the doorway. “Who goes there!”

  The women shushed, cowering back down around Allie. Gillian tensed in her arms. Allie raised her head, ready to meet whatever was coming.

  “Clayton Howard,” Clay drawled, stepping down into the lamplight and pushing back on the table to let himself into the lower salon. Several of the women ran to meet him, voices shrill as they begged for details.

  “What, did they think I lied?” Allie asked Catherine with a shake of her head.

  “Lies are bad,” Gillian agreed, twisting in Allie’s arms to see Clay. The silk of h
er curls tickled Allie’s chin.

  Gillian was right. Lies were a poison. Some made you think the world had changed when it was your own heart that needed changing. She wasn’t ready to fall in love, to surrender her heart into another’s keeping. She was merely thankful that the Continental’s engine woke from its slumber a few minutes later, signaling their freedom.

  As the passengers raised a cheer, Clay approached her. “We should talk.”

  “No,” Allie said. “We should not.” She handed him Gillian and went to where Maddie and some of the other women were trying to right the table. Clay followed her, passed Gillian to Maddie and hefted the piece easily, carrying it to its place in the center of the room.

  Allie set to work moving the chairs back to their places, as well. Surely the busier she kept, the less time she’d have to think about Clay.

  But as if he intended to stay front of mind, he paced her. “You kissed me,” he murmured, grabbing the back of the chair she had lifted as if to take the burden from her.

  Cheeks heating at the reminder, she tugged the chair out of his hands and staggered to keep from falling. “And you kissed me. I’d call us even.”

  Clay frowned. “Do you consider this a game?”

  Oh, but he could be maddening! “I thought we were going to die,” Allie whispered, mindful of the other women around them.

  Clay’s brows shot up. “That was how you preferred to spend your last minutes?”

  “Yes! No!” Allie twisted the chair to scrape it across the floor. Clay came around and took it from her. She gave up and let him position it at the table.

  “You have to stop helping me,” she said when he returned to her side.

  “No,” he said, face grim. “You have to stop fighting me.”

  Allie puffed out a breath and turned to look for her daughter. She thought Clay might continue to follow her about the room, but he seemed to know he’d pushed her as far as she could go, for he headed back up the stairs for the deck.

  “Man troubles?” Maddie teased her, passing with one of the last chairs. “Sure’n I’d be glad to advise you on how to solve them.”