River Queen

by Gilbert, Morris

  Dallas focused enough to see Julienne eyeing him with disgust, and Aunt Leah looked somber. “I bet you think I been drinking,” he said, trying to muster some dignity. “Well, I guess I have been, but just a wittle. A little.”

  Julienne shook her head. “He has a stateroom up on the Texas deck. Would you like some help? I could ask one of the crewmen.”

  “No, ma’am, I think me and Dallas can make it just fine, thank you ma’am.” They started toward the stairs, and Julienne didn’t want to watch in case both the stranger and Dallas came tumbling down them headlong.

  She went to the back of the main deck and looked out over the river. Late that evening storm clouds had begun moving in, and the errant breeze on the Mississippi River had transformed into wild rushes of wind from all points of the compass. Julienne and Leah had taken two of their brand-new rocking chairs out to the main deck to watch the storm come in, fanning themselves against the hot southern night, enjoying the occasional odd cool drafts that swept over them.

  It was a black night. An eerie quiet lay over the river, the sure prelude to a storm. After awhile Julienne could even hear the soft swish of her aunt’s skirts, and Leah came to stand by her side. “It seems that Mr. Bronte is comfortably ensconced in his new quarters. I would imagine that he’s going to be a little confused when he wakes up in the morning.”

  With the money that they were to realize from their haul to New Orleans and back, before they left, each of them had decided on one reasonably-priced thing that they wanted most. Julienne had demanded a hip bath. The Texas deck had two sanitary rooms, but no bathtubs. They were scarce in Natchez and exorbitantly high. Dallas knew that they would be much cheaper in New Orleans, which was why he had sent Caesar and Libby to search for one. And, of course, for the black licorice, which was what Carley had asked for.

  Darcy had demanded cash, and though Julienne tried to explain that they wouldn’t know exactly how much they would clear until they finished the haul and returned to Natchez, he kept insisting. Finally she had given him five dollars from her very small emergency fund. He had said that would be a down payment and had sashayed off to see Stephen Moak.

  As soon as they got back to Natchez, Roseann had ordered three bolts of muslin: black, gray, and blue, to make all of them new skirts, including Libby. She had never been able to do any of the hard work on the ship; she didn’t know anything about cooking; she couldn’t possibly get down on her knees and scrub; and she simply wasn’t strong enough to wash and iron. But she could sew, and she loved it, so she mended and patched and sewed on buttons for everyone, even the crew.

  Surprisingly Aunt Leah had asked for a bed, a chest, and a washbowl and pitcher. When Julienne had questioned her about it, she merely said, “When we are not hauling freight, Mr. Bronte works all day looking for freight, and half the night he works on the engines. When this boat is on the river, Mr. Bronte has to stay at that wheel for hours and hours at a time. When he can rest, he deserves a nice, quiet room. I want him to have the captain’s stateroom, and I don’t want any of you to say anything about it to him.”

  Julienne had felt a little ashamed at her thoughtlessness at the time. But she certainly wasn’t now. “So it’s true what everyone said about him,” she said bitterly to her aunt.

  “He’s drunk,” Aunt Leah retorted. “He’s not a drunk.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  Leah sighed. “You’ve been so sheltered, maybe you really don’t understand. But when Barry was in the army, I saw what real drunks are. They drink when they wake up and drink until they pass out. They can’t possibly work. They drink instead of eat, they’re usually violent, and for most of them, when they get to a certain point, that poison is so riddled throughout their bodies that it finally kills them. Now we’ve been living on this boat with Dallas Bronte for over a month. Until tonight, have you ever seen him take a drink?”

  “No,” Julienne said sulkily.

  “No, you haven’t,” Leah said with satisfaction.

  “But he’s so arrogant,” Julienne blustered. “Today he tried to tell me how to take care of Carley! How dare he!”

  “What did he say?” Leah asked curiously.

  “That Jesse had caught her leaving the Queen by herself, saying she was going to go dig crawdads for bait, of all things! And Dallas said it was because we—me and mother—haven’t been bringing her up right!”

  Softly Leah said, “And he’s exactly right, Julienne.”

  “What!” she said with outrage. “How can you say that, Aunt Leah? How can you agree with him?”

  Again she said, “Because he is right, Julienne. Please calm down and listen to me. I’m not at all surprised that Carley thinks she can just go where she wants, and do what she wants. To her, going to dig for crawdads is no different than going out to the barn to dig for worms. No one ever stopped her from doing that. And no one has explained to her why she can’t do it now.”

  Julienne stared at her. As the truth of her aunt’s words began to dawn in her mind, she dropped her head and rubbed her forehead. “She never would stay in her lessons with you. So many times I’ve thought that Carley was growing up so ignorant, so uneducated. But I just passed it off, thinking that you should make her do her lessons.”

  “It’s not my place. It’s never been my place. Just like it’s not up to this crew to teach Carley right and wrong and to discipline her. We’re just so blessed that Mr. Macklin and Jesse and Mr. Bronte love that child. You don’t realize how much time they spend with her, and how carefully they look after her.”

  Julienne lifted her head and said bleakly, “He was right. Dallas was exactly right. I’ve spent this whole day, since we had that fight, thinking horrible things about him.”

  “I wondered why you were in such a foul humor,” Leah said with some amusement. “But then I should’ve known that you crossed Dallas Bronte. Somehow he has a way of locking horns with you and Darcy.”

  Julienne turned to her and asked, “Darcy? You know what’s happened to him, don’t you, Aunt Leah? Why he’s been working—and sober—for the last few days?”

  She nodded. “He came to me in a blue-faced fit, after he came back from trying to see Stephen Moak in New Orleans. He blurted out this entire—I’ll call it a conversation, though it seemed to me to be fairly one-sided—that he had with Mr. Bronte. Darcy thought that I would excuse him, would pet him, maybe give him some money. But just like I’ve done with you tonight, Julienne, I told Darcy that everything Mr. Bronte had told him was right. That I completely and totally agreed with him.”

  “What did Dallas say to him?”

  Leah’s mouth twitched. “One of the topics they discussed was that Mr. Bronte was not going to let Darcy eat if he didn’t work.”

  “What! But that could never happen!” Julienne said, irritated again. “You know that we wouldn’t let Darcy go without food, as long as we have a morsel!”

  “Of course not, and Dallas Bronte is not a fool, he knows that too. It’s just that Mr. Bronte used that as an example to teach Darcy that he was subject to certain rules, just like all the rest of the civilized humans on this earth. In effect, he was teaching Darcy a lesson. And it worked too. I realized that as soon as Darcy came to me, instead of to you or to Roseann. He knew, deep down, that Mr. Bronte was right. And he wanted me to listen, and to tell him the truth, and to reassure him that even when we do bad things our family still loves us. And then the next day he went to work.”

  “I didn’t even know until today,” Julienne said in a low voice.

  “We haven’t been talking much about it,” Leah said quietly. “We just want Darcy to find his way, without all of us beating him over the head.”

  “That’s probably what Dallas threatened to do to him,” Julienne said disdainfully.

  “Mm, no, Mr. Bronte didn’t say that at all,” Leah answered with a
musement, remembering that Darcy had said Bronte had promised to “beat him to a bloody pulp.”

  Julienne let out an exasperated sigh. “All right, Aunt Leah, you’re right, and Dallas is right, and I’m wrong. I’ve been wrong all along about Carley and Darcy. But surely you aren’t defending him getting drunk tonight.”

  “No, I can’t defend that,” Leah answered somberly. “But neither can I condemn it. And neither can you. Jesus Christ is the only man who has the right to condemn us for our sins, because only He is sinless. And when they asked Him to stone a woman who had committed a sin, the terrible sin of adultery, He said, ‘He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.’ Are you going to be the one that casts that first stone, Julienne?”

  Leah’s words were almost like a physical shock to Julienne. She actually felt slightly nauseous, and the headache that had been threatening her all day flooded in with a vengeance. Forgotten was Carley, forgotten was Darcy. Her thoughts were like big angry roiling red clouds in her mind.

  I am that woman, she thought with a desperation she had never known. With Dallas, I wanted him so badly, it was almost as if I couldn’t control myself. And he stopped me . . . Dallas Bronte, that I’ve always looked down on, thinking that I was so much better than him, that he was low and common and had no honor. But he’s the one who’s acted unselfishly, and honorably, and with true charity. And I’m the woman who should be stoned.

  Sensing her distress, Leah put her arm around Julienne and asked softly, “Julienne? What’s wrong, dearest, are you ill?”

  “No, no, Aunt Leah,” she answered, though it was true that she was heartsick. “But would you do something for me?”

  “Anything, Julienne.”

  “There are some things that I need to tell you, and some things that I need to talk to you about, to ask your advice. But mostly I would like it if you would come back to my room and pray with me.”

  “That would make me happy above all things,” Leah said. “No matter what has happened or what is to come, the Lord will save us, will keep us from harm, and will bless us. Always and forever.”

  DALLAS OPENED HIS EYES and did not know where he was. Then, with the sharp sense of a pilot, he realized he was on his boat, and in the captain’s cabin. Someone must have fixed this up for me, he thought warmly. Then, with the memories of the day and night before starting to crowd in on him, he reflected irately, Bet it wasn’t Julienne.

  With a groan he sat up on the side of the bed, dropping his head and holding it with his hands. What a head-pounder! Feels like someone’s driving a spike through my head. And it serves me right too. Acting like an ignoramus roughneck! Seems like Julienne might be right about me after all.

  Pushing the unwelcome thoughts away, he got up and found that his clothes had been brought up from the crew quarters, washed, ironed, and folded neatly into the little chest. Quickly he washed, shaved, and dressed and hurried down to the main deck.

  In the boiler room he found Darcy, wearing new workingman’s clothes, a plain gray shirt and rough linsey trousers. Dallas saw he was oiling the valves. Darcy smirked when he saw Dallas’s wan face, and he said, “Morning, Bronte. I recommend Libby’s pancakes.”

  Dallas didn’t know what kind of insult that might be, but he just grunted, “Morning,” and went into the engine room.

  Jesse and Ring were standing there talking to a young man. He looked vaguely familiar to Dallas, but finally the liquor cloud cleared a bit and he remembered it all. He was an engineer, Dallas had hired him, and to top it all off he had had to carry Dallas to the boat. And Dallas couldn’t remember his name.

  The man came forward, his hand stuck out, and automatically Dallas took it, surprised that it was like a rough paw, as big as his own. “Good morning to you, Mr. Bronte,” he said. “I’ve already introduced myself to your crew, and to the Ashbys. I know you were a mite under the weather last night, so maybe you can’t quite get ahold of my name. It’s Revelation Brown.”

  “Yes, yes, sure,” Dallas said hastily. “Good morning, Rev. And call me Dallas. I see you’ve been looking the old girl over?”

  He grinned, and he looked about sixteen years old. “Mr. Bronte, this is no old girl. This is the prettiest, spryest, most delightful lady I’ve ever seen.”

  “You must be talking about the engine,” Dallas said dryly. “We haven’t had the money to pretty her up. I kinda hate that too. She deserves better. So you think the engine’s in good shape?”

  “The best,” he answered succinctly. “Ring showed me that little jog in the rods, and I’ve already fixed it. This engine is as good and solid as I’ve seen on a floating palace. Whoever put it together bought the best parts money could buy.”

  Dallas said with a tinge of sadness, “Yeah, it seems like Mr. Ashby loved to have the best. And four boilers, on this little boat! No wonder she’s the fastest on the river. And wait ’til you see the pilothouse; it’s got every bell and whistle and speaking tube anyone ever thought of. Now all we need is some freight, and I haven’t been able to scrounge up a thing to haul.”

  Rev sucked his lower lip, then said, “You know, I’ve already prayed for these engines and the boilers and the paddle wheel and all the parts, and for the decks, and for the Ashbys, and for you and the crew. But somehow I forgot to pray for some freight. Don’t you worry, Dallas. I’m going to have this girl full up to the Texas and running down this old river like a thoroughbred!”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Dallas couldn’t believe it, but he had to believe it. That very afternoon Jacob Fender came down to the River Queen.

  “I don’t have a load myself, Dallas,” he said after Dallas’s welcoming greeting. “But Lamar Inman is a good friend of mine.”

  Dallas’s smile faded. “Yes, I know Mr. Inman. In fact, I talked to him just yesterday, and he told me he didn’t have anything for the Queen.” Inman & Sons were perhaps the busiest shipping agents in Natchez. Every single day Dallas went into their office to ask about freight, and they always told him there was nothing for the River Queen. But Dallas knew very well what they meant: There was nothing for Dallas Bronte.

  Fender nodded. “I know, because I’m just coming from Lamar’s office, and he told me. But I recommended you, Dallas, and I told him about the fast clean trip you did for me to New Orleans. Now, he’s got a load going to Cairo, all kinds of household supplies and equipment. Everything from tinware to ovens. He’s willing to give you the load, if the River Queen can carry it. It’s not so much the weight as it is the square footage. He can’t break up the shipment, so it’s either all or none.”

  “We’ll carry it,” Dallas said with determination, “if I have to sit on crates of dishes to pilot her.” He stuck his hand out, and Fender took it, and they shook hard. “How can I ever thank you, Mr. Fender? We’ve known each other for several years, and I consider you a friend, but just in a business sort of way. I never would have expected you to vouch for me personally.”

  Fender pushed his hat back on his head and said steadily, “You know, I used to be a wild man, when I was younger. Paid a heavy price for it, too, and took some beatings that I really didn’t deserve. People aren’t fair. But now I know the Lord, and He is just and He is fair. So whenever I see an injustice that I can do something about, I do it.”

  Dallas grinned. “You know what, sir, I really need to introduce you to my new engineer. Because it just so happens that he agrees with you, and he knew you were coming.”

  “What?” Fender asked with some confusion.

  “When you meet Revelation Brown, you’ll understand exactly what I mean.”

  Dallas proudly showed Fender the River Queen and introduced him to the crew. When he told Rev about Fender bringing them a haul, he whooped, “Hallelujah! You’re an answer to prayer, Mr. Fender!”

  “Told you, sir,” Dallas said. Fender’s normally somber
round face was split in a wide grin.

  Dallas introduced him to the Ashbys, and their gratefulness seemed to embarrass him deeply, so Dallas brought him away quickly, saying he had to get to Inman & Sons. Fender left, and Dallas hurried to the shipping agent.

  They concluded their business and all of the documents quickly, so Dallas wasn’t gone long. When he came back, Roseann, Leah, Julienne, and Carley were still up on the hurricane deck. Jesse had found half a dozen very light balsa wood folding chairs with cane seats and backs for coolness. They made wonderful deck chairs. Dallas had bought a small lightweight tent that they rigged up as a pavilion, so the chairs were shaded. Leah had started giving Carley lessons every morning there. Roseann loved to sit up there, sewing or just dozing. Jesse had brought her an empty shipping crate that served as an ottoman, and she seemed to be very comfortable. Julienne had worked all morning but had joined them after dinner.

  “We’re headed for Cairo day after tomorrow,” he announced jubilantly. “And the money’s good!”

  “Is it pigs?” Carley asked.

  “No ma’am, not this time,” Dallas said with perhaps more vehemence than necessary. “It’s going to be all kinds of stuff for kitchens. And the River Queen is going to be full up to the hurricane deck. This haul is so big we’re going to even fill up the ballroom.” Since they weren’t carrying passengers, they had simply boarded up the windows of the ballroom so it would be watertight.

  “How long will it take?” Julienne asked eagerly.

  Dallas’s odd green eyes shadowed. “Well, it’s about 750 miles to Cairo. The Queen could run straight through in about three days. But I’m sorry to say that we—I can’t do that. I’ll only work twelve hours without a rest, any more than that and I endanger the boat. So it’s going to take us about six days, maybe seven, depending.”