The report of firecrackers shattered the silence and echoed over the surface of the lake. Marguerite gasped as Roman candles shot into the air and exploded in brilliant arrays of red, blue, yellow, and green in the ebony sky. Back and forth, the two forts “fired” their weapons. The choreographed boats moved in the water, shooting off their own Catherine wheel fireworks at precise moments, creating spiraling displays against the jet-black sky.
Marguerite clapped her hands in delight. She turned to Captain Andrews. “You must be very proud of Trip.”
“You and I both know I could never have masterminded this display. And he couldn’t have done it without you.”
“It’s so spectacular I can hardly breathe.”
Suddenly a rocket shot from the north end of the lake directly toward the Endeavor. The rocket hit the half-raised sail and the cloth burst into flames.
Terror gripped Marguerite’s heart, and a strangled cry escaped her lips. She pressed her fist to her mouth. “Lord, please no. Not Trip’s boat.”
“Cut the sail away!” Heart thundering, Trip scrambled toward the mast, hung on to it with one hand, and started slicing the ropes holding it in place with his other. Harry whacked at the other end. The flaming fabric broke loose. “Swing the boom out over the water!”
Harry released the halyard and gave the boom a solid kick. The fully engulfed sail slipped from the mast and fell half onto the boat’s rope safety line and half into the water. Lloyd and Max kicked it the rest of the way. The piece of silk sank silently into the lake.
“Trip!” Harry shouted.
He jerked around to see flames shooting from the boom. Fear pumped through Trip’s veins. In minutes his ship would be ablaze.
“Here!” Harry tossed Trip the axe.
Trip caught the center of the handle. Then, balanced precariously, he began chopping at the solid pine. The others attempted to douse the flames with buckets of water hauled from the lake. Perspiration trailed down Trip’s back, trickling beneath the waistband of his pants. He paused to wipe the sweat stinging his eyes with the back of his arm. The rockets continued to flare around them.
Flames licked at his targeted chopping area. Seconds mattered. Lungs burning, he raised the axe and sent it crashing down.
The boom cracked. Harry yanked the mainsheet free and the engulfed piece of timber dropped into the lake with a horrendous hiss.
27
Despite Captain Andrews’s firm grip on her elbow, Marguerite found her legs so rubbery they threatened to give way. She released the breath she’d been holding as the boom fell into the water.
“What happened?” Marguerite asked Trip’s father.
“He had to cut the boom away or the ship would’ve burned.”
She grabbed hold of the porch rail. The climax of the program – the exploding of both forts in a spectacular array of fireworks – occurred, but she could scarcely look at them. The crowd erupted in thunderous applause and zealous cheers. They believed the burning boat was part of the show!
“How did that happen?” Marguerite gasped. “The rocket. Where did it come from?”
The older man glanced down the beach and rubbed a hand over his chin. “From the shore, I think.”
“There weren’t supposed to be any mortars on the shore.” Marguerite recalled the diagram of the placements just as clearly as she would a chart of the constellations. Mortars were set at the two forts – the stationary one on Coney Island and the floating battery. A few were on each of the large ships, but she recalled that Trip insisted none come from the shore because of the danger involved to both the crowd and the boats.
She tried to remember the trajectory. Doing a quick bit of geometry, she figured that from the angle at which the rocket struck, it had to have been shot from shore, most likely from the icehouse area.
Where she’d last seen Roger heading.
Her breath caught.
Roger’s threats replayed in her mind. Surely even he wouldn’t go as far as to try to destroy Trip’s ship.
Or would he?
With the carnival over, Marguerite accepted the thanks and congratulations from those around her and slipped away. If she hurried, she’d be able to check out her theory and be back at Louie’s in time to meet Trip for a celebratory dinner.
Moving through the dispersing crowd, she followed the boardwalk past the Yacht Club and boat shop to the end. She snagged a Chinese lantern from one of the trees and slipped the paper covering off the small kerosene lamp contained inside. With the aid of its thin light, she found the footpath winding through the trees toward the icehouses.
Dew-dampened grass clung to her silk skirt. This area lacked a sandy beach, so she walked along the edge of the lake, searching for any sign of a rocket having been shot off. The smell of gunpowder, heavy in the humid night air, kept her from following the scent of anything set off in the immediate area.
Approaching the pair of large icehouses, she turned the lantern’s wick up. Trip had told her that tons of ice blocks were harvested in the winter and stored in the two structures for use by the lake’s restaurants and saloons as well as the surrounding community. Nothing seemed amiss around the first icehouse, but in the narrow alley between the two, a box caught her eye when she held her lantern aloft.
Steeling herself, she ventured between the buildings, knelt by the wooden crate, and set her lantern down. Prying off the loose lid with a stick, she found the box filled with Roman candles. A discarded mortar remained stuck in the ground beside it. She yanked the tube free and held it to her nose. The unmistakable scent of gunpowder, which Mark always claimed smelled like a mix of chalk and burnt paper, wafted toward her.
Oars slapped the water at the beach. She startled and dropped the metal tube into the crate. After turning down the lamp’s wick as far as she dared, she hid it behind the crate’s lid. Who was out there? Besides the floating battery the men had kept there for the carnival, the only vessel that used this dock was the barge that delivered ice around the lake. Perhaps one of the participants had decided to moor his boat there.
She pressed herself against an icehouse wall. Was the boat coming or going? She heard two distinct voices. The rowboat scraped as they hauled it onto the rocky shore.
“Too bad Andrews’s boat didn’t sink. Are you going to try again?” a man asked in a thick Southern accent.
“I think I made my point.”
The second voice hit her like a medicine ball to the stomach. Roger! She sucked in her breath.
“No one steals something that belongs to me, Clyde.”
She nearly bolted. He was talking about her! She racked her brain for a Southerner named Clyde at the lake. Clyde Stone? The gambling hall owner? He was friends with Roger?
Clyde chuckled. “Are you still going to try to get that girl to marry you?”
“She will. I guarantee it. I’m a man who always gets what he wants. Just because my first plan didn’t work doesn’t mean this second one won’t. I think Andrews got the picture of what’s at stake.”
Two plans? Roger had shot off the rocket at Trip’s boat, but what other plan had been thwarted?
“As long as my name stays out of it,” Clyde growled. “I have to admit that first idea of yours was a stroke of genius. We made a formidable team taking her old man’s money.”
She gasped.
“Only because your gaming establishment is so reputable.” Roger laughed. “All I had to do was introduce Westing to the delights of the faro table. When I saw how easily he got hooked, I decided to use it to my advantage. I still can’t believe that he kept going there night after night.”
“Like taking candy from a baby.”
“But you were the one who made sure he lost. How’d you manage it?”
“Faro’s harder to rig than the roulette wheels.” His boots scuffed against one of the rocks leading to the icehouses. “But crooked faro banks look just like legit ones. Helps to have a good dealer too, but it cost me to keep him on the sly. Remember o
ur deal. I keep all the winnings. You aren’t going back on that even though you didn’t get the girl, are you?”
“I haven’t gotten her yet.”
“By the way,” Clyde drawled, “what happened with her? I thought you said she’d have to accept your proposal if her father was penniless.”
“Trip Andrews happened.” Roger’s voice sounded mere yards away. “And after tonight, he’ll get the idea she isn’t worth it. He won’t risk his precious sailboat again – even for her. When he’s gone, she’ll need my strong arms to comfort her.”
“And if he doesn’t take this warning to back away?”
“That nice boat of his will be missing more than a sail.”
Bile rose in Marguerite’s throat and her stomach roiled. Roger had stolen her father’s money to get her, and now he intended to hurt Trip’s Endeavor. She covered her pounding heart with her hand.
A rodent scurried over her shoe. She jumped and clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out.
“Did you hear that?” Clyde asked, stepping closer. “I heard something in the alley.”
“Probably a coon.”
“Either way, why don’t you grab that box of fireworks you left in there so we can leave? The last thing I need is to get caught. The sheriff is breathing down my neck as it is.”
“Good idea.” A branch cracked under Roger’s foot. He was close. Much too close.
She inched down the alley, wiggling down the length of the wall of the icehouse. Like the lapping waves, two thoughts pounded over and over in her head. Escape. Warn Trip. Escape. Warn Trip.
Roger stepped into the alley with the box of fireworks in hand, his rounded shoulders still noticeable against the moonlit sky.
Her heart hammered so loudly in her ears she was certain he could hear it. A few more yards and she could run for the trees.
A twig snapped beneath the heel of her shoe.
He set down the box and looked up. “Who’s there?”
She bolted for cover in the wooded area.
In stoic silence, Trip and his crew brought the crippled Endeavor back to the boat shop’s dock. He glanced at his vessel and relief washed over him. A new boom and fresh sail and she’d be good as new. An expensive accident, but at least no one was harmed and his ship remained intact.
Harry hopped off the boat first and began the process of tying her down for the night. The others followed suit in silence. Lloyd carried the unfired Catherine wheels off the boat, Mel doused all of the Chinese lanterns, and Max gathered the ax and buckets they’d used in dealing with the fire. The Endeavor might be Trip’s boat, but she belonged to all of them.
Trip scrubbed his face with his hands and sank beside the tiller. How had this happened? He’d checked and rechecked all of the rocket positions himself. Nothing should have come close to any of the boats, especially not his.
A few of the men had chosen to let their wives ride with them on the lake. He shuddered. What if he’d let Marguerite join them?
Mel, the deputy, sat down across from him. “She’s all set. Are you planning on joining us at Louie’s? The steamer’s still going.”
“You guys go ahead. I need a few minutes alone first.”
Harry dropped from the side down to the deck in front of him. “Marguerite will be worried.”
“Tell her I’ll be along shortly.”
Squeezing his shoulder, Max sighed. “This wasn’t your fault, Trip. That rocket came out of nowhere.”
The four men trickled off the boat and, he guessed, out of the boat shop as well. Trip lifted his face to the stars and smiled. Marguerite’s stars.
“Lord, that was a close one.” He prayed aloud as he often did when he was alone. “Since she came into my life, it’s been one close call after another. Are You trying to tell me something?” He rubbed the kink in his neck. “I blew it tonight. Somehow, Lord, I messed up, and I could have gotten someone killed.”
“Nonsense.” The unmistakable deep voice of his father made Trip startle. “That was the finest piece of orchestration I’ve ever seen.”
Trip scrambled off the boat, landing on the dock in front of his father. “Thank you, Dad, but – ”
“But what? Some boy must have shot that one off. It sure didn’t come from any of your batteries. I saw it.” He handed Trip a canteen and waited for him to drink his fill. “Son, Marguerite saw it too.”
Trip nodded. “I should probably get cleaned up. I’m supposed to meet her at Louie’s.”
“She isn’t there.”
“What?”
“I saw her head down the beach. I think she wanted to check where the stray rocket came from. She seemed … intent.”
“And you didn’t stop her?”
“I’d have better luck stopping a comet.” He chuckled. “Go on. Go get her.”
Three more steps and she’d be free of the alleyway. Though he’d tried, Roger hadn’t gained on her. With her skirts hiked to her knees, she raced through the opening.
Strong arms caught her and violently swung her around. “Whoa, there, little filly. What’s got you so spooked?”
Kicking, clawing, and scratching, she fought to break free, but the man held her fast.
“Let go of me!”
“Marguerite?”
Roger’s voice stopped her cold. An icy hand tickled her spine. She stilled.
“This is your girl?” the casino owner asked.
“Yes.”
“Absolutely not.” Bringing her heel down hard on her captor’s foot, she broke free when he yelped.
Roger caught her wrist and, in one swift move, twisted it painfully behind her.
“Let me go!” She squirmed. “You won’t get away with this. I heard what you did to steal my daddy’s money, and I know you shot that rocket at Trip’s boat.”
He forced her to turn so she could see his face. “Like my father said, ‘Survival of the fittest.’ Marguerite, only the strong survive. I intend not only to survive but to thrive with you by my side.”
“I’ll never marry you.”
“Never?” He laughed. “We’ll see. So after Trip, who do you want me to destroy next? Your brother’s future? Your sister’s home?”
“You wouldn’t.”
He yanked her arm harder. “Oh, but I would.”
“Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I’m good at keeping secrets.”
“You certainly are. Do you honestly believe I didn’t know about your little forays with Trip Andrews?”
“I don’t like it,” Clyde growled. “She knows too much. Let’s just drown her. No one will be a bit surprised if a young woman whose engagement had recently fallen apart killed herself.”
“No.” Roger ran his free hand along her cheek. “I’ll take her with me.”
“Don’t be a fool. If she talks, we’ll both end up in jail.”
Marguerite struggled to break free, kicking and clawing, ignoring the pain streaking up her twisted arm.
“Besides, you can’t take her anywhere like that. She’ll have every man in the Grand Plaza after you. Let’s put her in the icehouse until she learns to cool her hot head.”
“I don’t know about this, Clyde.”
The gambler moved to open the door and swung it wide. “I didn’t get to where I am by being soft. I know a bad risk when I see one, and letting her go with you right now is a chance I’m not willing to take. Either you let me put her in here or I’ll take care of her my way.” He grabbed Marguerite’s other arm and yanked her from Roger.
“Roger, please, you can’t put me in there! I hate closed spaces. I won’t be able to breathe!”
“Isn’t that too bad?” Clyde shoved her inside with more force than necessary.
Landing on the edge of a block of ice, she cried out.
Clyde laughed and slammed the door.
Running back to it, she clawed around the edges. No handle. No latch. No knob. “Roger! Roger, please, get me out of here!” Gasping, she slid to the sawdust-covered f
loor. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, and she couldn’t stop Roger from damaging Trip’s Endeavor again.
28
Trip reached the Grand Plaza in record time. He took the steps of the pavilion two at a time to gain some height and get a good view of the crowd. In the darkness, the task was nearly impossible.
Frustrated, he hurried into the throng. He felt a tug on his arm.
“Mr. Andrews, how’s your boat?”
Trip turned and found Mark beside him. “Have you seen your sister?”
Mark shrugged. “About an hour ago I saw her making her way down the boardwalk. I thought she was going to meet you, but by the look on your face, I guess I was wrong.”
“Which way did she go?”
He pointed to the northwest. “Toward the icehouses.”
“Thanks.” Trip turned and dashed off.
Mark ran up beside him.
“Hey, where do you think you’re going? Go on back. I’ll find her and bring her home.”
“She’s my sister.” The youth pulled ahead.
Trip didn’t have time to stop and escort the boy back. He regained his position beside him. “Just do what I say, and don’t go leaving me in the dust, speedy.”
With the icehouse walls measuring at least eight inches thick, no one on the lake or even passing by on the way to their campsite would hear Marguerite’s cries from inside the structure. Still, she called out until her voice grew hoarse.
At first, the reprieve from the stifling heat of the August day was welcome, but now the water trickling off the melting ice soaked the hem of her silk gown, and the chilly air made her skin pimple in the darkness. She shivered uncontrollably, muscles convulsing.
She sat down on a sawdust-covered chunk of ice. She was so cold.
Perhaps she could tunnel out. She toed the loose planks and one slid sideways. Dropping down, she slipped her hand between the boards. Gravel. As deep as her hand.
She tucked her frigid fingers beneath her arms, hugging herself tightly. How had this happened? How had she missed Roger’s desire to own her at all costs? She’d been such a fool. If she’d only told Roger the truth from the beginning, maybe his feelings for her wouldn’t have taken root. Now everyone she cared about was in danger and she was a prisoner once again.
Making Waves Page 28
