“Ah, nothing gladdens the heart more than the sight of industrious women,” he proclaimed, stopping to rock on the balls of his feet.
“The same could be said of an industrious man,” Catherine replied, taking a careful stitch in the sleeve she was mending. “A shame I’ve seen so few this trip.”
Several of the women tittered at that, and Mercer’s face darkened. He turned purposefully away from her toward Allie.
“Might I speak to you a moment in private, Mrs. Howard?” he asked.
What, would he scold her for her friend’s behavior? Allie couldn’t imagine what else he had to say to her that couldn’t be said before the group. They’d clashed often enough on the trip that no one had to guess where each stood on a number of topics. He simply couldn’t understand that the more his grip tightened on his charges, the more inclined they were to slip through his fingers.
Still, a part of her was curious as to what he intended, so she asked Maddie to keep an eye on Gillian and rose to accompany Mr. Mercer down the stairs. She could see Clay watching her as they passed below his vantage point and entered the upper salon.
Several of the women were sitting and chatting. They, too, watched as Mercer led Allie to a little writing desk in a corner and bid her to take a seat beside it. He perched on the wooden chair and cupped his hands over one knee.
“I’m sure you have noticed, Mrs. Howard,” he said, eyes intent on hers, “that I have incurred considerable expense in bringing our fair ladies west.”
“Expenses for which you were reimbursed,” Allie reminded him, “either by the ladies themselves or by the good people of Seattle.”
He sighed, dropping his gaze to his laced fingers. “Oh, if only that were true. Unfortunately, I have had to resort to using my own finances to support this worthy venture.” He raised his gaze once more and leaned closer. “I’m sure you’d agree that such a circumstance is most unfair.”
Allie could not imagine where he was leading. “Sometimes we must sacrifice to bring our dreams to fruition, sir.”
He straightened and beamed at her. “We certainly must. I knew you would be quick to see the problem.” He slid a piece of paper across the desk toward her. “If you would be so good as to sign this note, I will allow you to return to your sewing.”
Allie frowned as she picked up the page, then heat flushed up her. “This is a promissory note! For five hundred dollars!”
Mercer’s smile didn’t waiver. “A paltry sum, I know, especially for a lady related to the Howards.”
Allie pushed to her feet and dropped the note on the desk, feeling as if the paper had burned her fingers. “I may carry the name of Howard, sir, but I am no relation. And I refuse to pay you another cent when you apparently misplaced the money I originally gave you.”
His brows rose with his body. “Dear lady, do not for one minute think I expect you to pay this money. No, indeed. I’m certain Mr. Howard would be more than delighted to reimburse me the funds once the two of you are wed.”
“Wed?” Allie could barely speak. “What makes you think I intend to marry at all?”
He went so far as to reach out and take her hand, which she jerked away from his touch. “Of course you will marry, Mrs. Howard. Do not think you can hide your feelings from me. One of our other passengers acquainted me with the story of you and Mr. Howard. I reunited you with your first love. I’m certain you agree that entitles me to some compensation.”
“It entitles you to nothing!” Allie was so angry her hands shook. So did her legs, but that didn’t stop her from backing away from him. “You, sir, are a charlatan! The money for me and my daughter has been paid, twice over. You will get nothing further from me or anyone with the name of Howard, if I have anything to say about the matter.” She turned on her heel and stomped from the room.
What an unscrupulous man! She knew not all the passengers had paid full fare, and a few had racked up bills at the hotel waiting for the Continental to sail. Very likely he’d had to lay out some funds to keep the expedition going. But that promissory note was nothing less than extortion.
She took the long way back to Clay and Gillian, circling the ship, to give herself time to calm. Lord, what am I to think when every day I’m faced with men who cannot act with honor, with compassion? Am I to entrust Gillian’s future, my future, to such as these?
Clay’s face came to mind, that smile of his lifting, that dimple showing. She could not deny that he had helped many people on board the ship, especially her and Gillian. But at times he seemed controlling. She sighed. He was no Mercer, but she could not trust that he wouldn’t act like the other Howards.
She’d thought she’d mastered her emotions by the time she climbed to the hurricane deck again, but her feelings must have betrayed her, for Clay took one look at her, set Gillian down and told her daughter to go sit with Maddie and Catherine.
“What happened?” he asked, a hand on Allie’s elbow as he led her to the opposite side of the deck where the shadow of the funnel provided a little shelter from the breeze and the gazes of the others.
“Just another misguided conversation with Mr. Mercer,” she reported. Around the funnel, she caught sight of their so-called benefactor leading one of the older widows down the stairs. No doubt he had other notes he wished signed.
Allie sucked in a breath. “It was horrid, Clay,” she informed him, feeling her fists bunch in her gray skirts. “He asked me to sign a promissory note for five hundred dollars!”
Clay’s brows came thundering down. “What! Why?”
“He says he’s lost money on this venture,” Allie explained, barely managing to keep her tone civil. “He thinks the men we’ll marry will gladly make up the difference.”
“They might at that,” Clay said, then held up his hands at her scowl. “It’s the truth, Allie. There are men in Seattle who’d happily pay any price for a good wife. From what I hear, some already have.”
Allie narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you mean?”
“You know this is the second trip Mercer has taken, don’t you?”
She nodded. “That was one of the reasons many of us felt comfortable following him. Flora Pearson says he brought out her father and sisters two years ago.”
“She’s right. Her sisters were two of a dozen women who journeyed with him then.” He shifted on his feet as if he wasn’t sure she’d like the next part of the story. “His friends financed the trip, three hundred dollars each for a bride. I don’t know who paid him this time, but I’d guess he accepted twenty to thirty commissions.”
Allie stared at him, feeling as if the ship had commenced rocking again. “He said the people of Seattle helped pay the way for some. Was it only the bachelors, then?”
Clay’s nod only served to fan the flames of her temper.
“And these men who paid their money, what do they expect?” she demanded. “Do they think they can march aboard the moment we reach Seattle, pick any woman they want?”
Clay shrugged. “I’d imagine a few will think just that.”
She could scarcely breathe with the enormity of it. “We’ve been sold, like cattle!” She paced in front of him, hands clasped to keep from striking something. “Surely there is some recourse. No one can force us to wed if we choose not to. No one can tell us who to marry.”
Then another thought struck. Allie spun to face Clay. He took a step back from her.
She advanced on him. “Mercer said you would pay my note. He claims someone aboard ship informed him of our past. He said you would be glad to help out because he’d reunited us. Did you pay him to bring me to Seattle?”
*
Clay had never seen Allie so angry. Her face was flushed, her eyes snapped fire and her shoulders were so high they might have brushed the lobes of her pretty ears. He didn’t want to add fuel to the blaze, but he refused to lie.
“I’ve funded a lot of risky ventures in Seattle,” he told her, “but only when I trusted the person who requested the money. I kne
w what he hoped to accomplish, and I believed in the principles of the venture. I don’t agree with Mercer, on any number of points. I’ve said so on more than one occasion. I certainly don’t trust him. Why would I underwrite his activities?”
Still she watched him, as if she expected to see the truth appear on his forehead in bright gold letters. “Perhaps because your family told you to. Perhaps it was the only way to trick me into complacency.”
Clay met her gaze, held it. “Since when do I do anything to please my family? As it is, I had no idea you were heading to Seattle until my mother told me.”
She took a deep breath as if to calm herself, dropping her gaze and her shoulders at last. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t a man waiting in Seattle, expecting me to bow down in gratitude for bringing me out as a wife. I won’t have it!”
Neither would he. The reality slammed into him and knocked him speechless. Allie didn’t want to marry; she’d made that perfectly clear. But Clay didn’t want her to marry, either. Marry anyone except him, that is.
She had the fire to make it in Seattle; she had the determination. Her vision was so strong at times he was certain he saw it, too. He’d worried that he couldn’t be the man she would need, but with her by his side, there would be nothing he couldn’t do, even being a good husband. And he could be a father to Gillian.
Lord, help me be the father You would want me to be.
He longed to take her in his arms, promise to love her forever, to help her reach whatever dreams her heart devised. But now was no time to express his devotion, not with steam pouring from her ears faster than the Continental’s funnel.
“No one could hold you to a contract you never signed,” Clay told her. “If any gentleman thinks otherwise, you send him to me.”
Allie glared up at him. “I’d prefer to fight my own battles, sir. I just didn’t realize this particular fight was coming. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you knew. The pacts were common knowledge in Seattle. I’m sure I saw at least one article on them in the newspapers.”
She sighed. “I tried to avoid the papers after they started reporting my disappearance.” She glanced up at him. “Your family put a reward out for information on me, as if someone had kidnapped me.”
“I’m sorry they treated you so badly, Allie,” he said, meaning every word. “I wish I’d come home sooner so I could have helped.”
She raised her chin. “You came at the right time, Clay. I was the one who had to help myself. Until I was ready to do that, nothing would have made a difference. I only wish I knew what to do now. I won’t be coerced into marriage.”
Or courted, either, he realized. Small wonder she’d bristled when he’d tried to play the gentleman. She didn’t need a society beau. She needed someone who would believe in her, encourage her.
He wanted to be that person, even if it cost him.
“Stand your ground,” he told her. “Neither Mercer nor his cronies can force you to marry. You have the right to say no.”
She took a deep breath. “We all have that right. But I still say forewarned is forearmed.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the other women sewing so contentedly behind them. Perhaps none of them knew the fate awaiting them in Seattle.
“Maybe it’s time for another session of the Seattle School,” he said, “and I don’t particularly care whether Mercer likes it.”
“I’ll gather your students,” Allie offered, face set. “You get Gillian.”
The plan agreed, Clay met with Allie and her friends a few minutes later, taking up his usual place with his back to the funnel on the hurricane deck. Apparently word had circulated about the purpose of his lesson, because the women shifted this way and that on their deck chairs, muttering, gazes dark.
“So, we’ve been sold, is it?” Maddie blurted out before Clay could speak. “Passed to the highest bidder like horses! Isn’t that just like a man?” She narrowed her eyes at Clay as if she suspected him of being part of the pact.
“Why are you all so upset about the matter?” an elderly widow asked, glancing around with a confused frown. “Mr. Mercer said he picked me out especially for an older farmer looking for a wife. It’s a comfort to know I’ll be cared for when I arrive.”
“And how do you know you’ll be cared for?” Allie challenged, rising to face them beside Clay. Her strength was so loud he felt as if he heard a battle hymn. “What if this farmer is cruel or cowardly?” she demanded. “What if he lives so far from town you never see another soul for help? How can you know the character of a man you’ve never met?”
“Mr. Mercer met him,” she protested. “He wouldn’t hand me over to a monster.”
Her statement set off a firestorm. Comments flew thick and fast on all sides, with finger-pointing and reddened faces.
“Ladies,” Clay tried, only to hear his own voice drowned in the tumult. He took a deep breath and bellowed, “Ladies!”
They quieted, gazes stormy, faces set. At least they were all turned in his direction now.
“The truth of the matter is that you’ll have offers aplenty when you reach Seattle,” he told them. “You may have seen some of the statistics in the papers. Every girl over the age of thirteen is spoken for, and I hear tell in parts of the territory, men are offering the fathers of baby girls allowances in order to marry the girl when she comes of age.”
“That’s barbaric!” Catherine cried.
Clay shook his head. “That’s survival. A wife is a helpmate, a partner beside you, someone to talk to in the long, cold winter months. And the government gives a man twice as many acres if he has a wife at his side.”
She shuddered. “Small wonder they think to bid over us.”
“But don’t you see?” Allie spoke up, meeting each woman’s gaze in turn. “They need us. We don’t have to settle for the first man who welcomes us on the dock or offers us a cottage.”
“Think carefully before accepting any offer,” Clay encouraged them. “Spend time with the fellow, ask around about him. Seattle is a small place. You’ll soon hear enough stories to tell you what sort of fellow he is.”
“And pray over the decision,” Allie told them. “Give yourselves time.”
Maddie glanced around. “But with this many women coming in, sure’n the good men will fall right away.”
Clay chuckled. “You can’t imagine, Maddie. Believe me, there are far too many fish along the sound. You can afford to wait for the right one.”
“Or chart your own path,” Allie added. “Mr. Howard has shown us a number of opportunities that might exist there. Make the most of them.”
“Quite right,” Catherine said with a brisk nod. “It’s possible to function perfectly well without a husband.”
The dinner gong sounded, and the women rose to go to table. Allie went to lift Gillian off Maddie’s lap and take her down to the lower salon, but Allie’s words lingered behind.
For every business venture, Clay had done just what he’d told his students. He’d spent time with the person requesting his help, listened to the vision, gauged the person’s ability to fulfill it. He’d asked around, leaned about habits, drive. Only then had he been willing to take a risk.
Allie had spent the last two months in his company. She knew his beliefs, what he did, how he worked. What could he do between here and Seattle to prove to her that she should take a risk, on him?
Chapter Eighteen
Allie found herself thankful for Clay’s lesson as the ship continued north. Surely he was right—no man could arbitrarily claim them as wives once they reached Seattle. His assurances went a long way toward calming the other women’s fears, as well.
In fact, the closer they were to reaching their destination, the more excitement seemed to be blowing along the decks of the Continental. All around Allie, her fellow passengers smiled, laughed and dreamed about the future. She wanted to feel the same hope, but she simply couldn’t determine how she would make her way in Seattle, and she
refused to think about how Clay might play a part.
He continued to be helpful and polite, but at times she caught him watching her as if he was about to say something of great import. Always when his gaze met hers, he’d smile and offer some observation, perhaps a snatch of poetry.
“Why poetry?” she asked one day as they were walking about the deck in the sunshine. Gillian was playing Scotch-hoppers with Maddie, and Allie couldn’t tell who was having more fun jumping about the planks.
“I thought you liked poetry,” he countered. “I seem to remember a dog-eared volume of Byron in your lap as defense against your mother’s staid social calls.”
Allie couldn’t help smiling at the memory. “I was quite enamored of the English poets back then, and I’ve found others to enjoy since. I simply struggle to think of a man like you enjoying them.”
“Perhaps because only a true gentleman enjoys poetry,” he said.
His voice was tight; she’d hurt him. She rubbed her fingers along the strength of his arm, stopping him as they reached the stern.
“I didn’t mean you weren’t a gentleman, Clay,” she assured him. “But poetry seems, well, pretty. I always thought it held greater appeal to women, for all men seem to write it.”
He shook his head. “Poetry appeals to men, as well. It’s powerful, unexpected. Look through the eyes of a poet, and you’re sure to see the world differently.” He pointed to the vista of sea around them. “‘Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. If a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be scorned.’”
The words seemed to echo inside her, yet she recognized their source. “But that’s the Bible.”
“And some of the most powerful poetry I’ve ever found. How can any man read it and not be moved?”
He was so certain of his convictions, gaze out over the waves, eyes glowing like gemstones. Part of her wanted to ask him if he felt as strongly about her; another part was afraid to find out.
She was standing along the railing one afternoon just before Easter, thinking hard, when Gillian scurried up to her. Her daughter had been reading a book with Catherine and Matt only a few moments before. Now she tugged on Allie’s hand.
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