River Queen

by Gilbert, Morris

  He shrugged. “I meet women all the time that are moneygrubbers. You’re not, I could see that from the first time I met you. But, Julienne, I have to ask you, since you brought it up. I understand about what happened after your father died, but now that you’ve got the River Queen running again and making a profit, why don’t you invest in her and get her fixed up to carry passengers? Even with your family living on board, you’ve still got, what, twenty staterooms? And the dining room could be fixed up, and you could have musicians and dancing in there too.”

  “I would love to do that,” Julienne said harshly, “especially I would love to fix up our staterooms, they’re like—well, you’ve seen the empty ones. Ours aren’t much better. But it doesn’t matter, because the bank won’t loan me any money.”

  “Which bank?” Lyle asked.

  “Planter’s, and Preston Gates has been a friend of the family for years. But the Board of Directors has not. I’ve talked to Mr. Gates about it, but even though I didn’t have a figure in mind, he said there was no use in even getting estimates for fixing up the Queen. Without my father, the bank feels that loaning money to the Ashby family is too great a risk.”

  Lyle nodded. “I do some business with Planter’s, and I know Gates. If he says it, it’s true.”

  “I know, I trust him. At first, when my father died, I didn’t. I thought he was a vulture. But I’ve learned that he’s really a good friend, and he’s done all he can to help us. He even told me that if he had the money, he’d make a private loan to us. But he’s not able to do that.”

  “Well, then,” Lyle said slowly, “why don’t you ask me?”

  “What?” Julienne said, startled. “Ask you what?”

  “For the money. I could loan it to you. After all, we were just talking about what good friends we are. That’s the kind of thing that friends do, they help each other out.”

  She stared at him, bemused. “I never thought of such a thing, Lyle.”

  “No, I know you haven’t. But if I had realized your situation, I would have suggested it before. I do this a lot, you know, it’s just a business investment. I invest in all kinds of enterprises. For you, the River Queen would be the security just like at the bank, only I’d charge you a lower rate of interest. Just business, see?”

  For a moment Julienne couldn’t think clearly, because every alarm in her mind started blaring when she thought of taking money from a man. But the way he had explained it was not like he was giving her money in return for any “favors.” As he had said, it was a simple business transaction.

  She tried to speak, and then finally all she could say was, “Wouldn’t that be an imposition?”

  “I have eleven notes out right now, Julienne. Four of them are to my friends, the rest are businessmen, all of them are secured, and I’m making money on the interest. I’d be happy to help you in this way. I think the River Queen would be a solid investment.”

  “I don’t know,” she said hesitantly. “I don’t even have any idea how much money it would take to refit the Queen.”

  They were sitting very close together, and now Lyle took her hand. “Tell you what,” he said warmly. “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve got in mind, and that’ll give me a better idea of how much money you’re going to need.”

  Bright hope began to glimmer in her mind, with visions of the River Queen painted and trimmed in gingerbread-work, of nicely-appointed staterooms with brass beds and fine satiny sheets, of marble-topped dressing tables and velvet curtains, of a dining room with glowing wood floors and paneling, of dancing in a satin dress in the ballroom lit by crystal chandeliers. Her eyes sparkled, and she began to talk.

  They talked for an hour in the restaurant, and then all the way back to the Queen in his fine glassed landau. As always, he walked her on board, but instead of politely tipping his hat and bowing good-night at the end of the landing stages, he took her arm and walked her up the stairs to the double doors leading into the ballroom. He put his hands on her waist and turned her to him. “Why don’t you come to my house tomorrow morning? I’ll draw up the papers, and by tomorrow afternoon I can have workmen already starting on the Queen. I’ll bet you I can get her done and back on the river in a week.”

  She hesitated. For an unescorted woman to go to a man’s house was unheard of, except for prostitutes. She thought about asking Aunt Leah to accompany her, but uneasily she thought that her aunt would not approve of Lyle loaning them money. Her aunt was always very polite to him, but Julienne sensed that she really didn’t care much for him, or at least that she didn’t trust him. And she couldn’t possibly ask her mother to come with her, for Roseann would flitter and flutter and the entire thing would make her so nervous she would probably end up in tears.

  He watched the emotions flitting across her face knowingly. Coolly he said, “I know that Bronte has been something like a business partner to you, even though he’s just your pilot. You can bring him if you’re uncomfortable coming to my home.”

  “No!” she said vehemently. “And I—it’s not that I don’t want to come to your home, Lyle, it’s just that—oh, forget it! I’m a businesswoman, after all, and it’s just business. What time shall I call?”

  He grinned, his brown-black eyes glinting. “At your convenience, ma’am. Normal business hours begin at eight o’clock.”

  “I’ll be there at eight o’clock, then.”

  She knew that he was going to kiss her. He put his hands at her hips, swayed her against him, and kissed her full and heavy on the lips. He did it well, and she knew that he was a man that had known women. She didn’t care, she was acutely aware of the full masculine force of his personality, and she was drawn to him. She eagerly returned his passionate kiss and managed to utterly crush any tiny hints of doubt or regret or shame rising in her mind.

  Lyle Dennison was going to give her back her life.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Julienne stood on the Texas deck, watching the Blue Moon Saloon. After she had returned from Lyle’s house that morning, she had steeled herself and gone looking for Dallas Bronte. She had decided to tell him that she had taken out a loan from Lyle Dennison first of all, even before she told her family. She knew she was going to have a fight on her hands. Dallas detested Lyle Dennison, though he would never tell Julienne why. They hadn’t been nearly as close since she had been seeing Lyle, and Julienne told herself that she didn’t care.

  But she cared now, because she had made Caesar tell her where Dallas was. He had spent the night at the Blue Moon. Though she knew he had been spending time there when they were home, this was the first time he had stayed all night there since he had come on board the River Queen.

  He finally came out, blinking in the sun and pulling his hat down over his eyes. As he walked to the River Queen, Julienne saw that at least he wasn’t drunk, he was striding solidly, his shoulders squared. As he crossed the gangplank, he glanced up at her and imperiously she waved for him to come up.

  When he reached the Texas deck, she said, “I need to talk to you, please. Would you come in and sit down with me for a few minutes?”

  “Sure,” he said with surprise. It was the first time in a long time she had sought him out.

  They went into the ballroom and sat at the dining table. She crossed her hands on the table, frowned, and seemed not to know how to begin.

  Dallas said lazily, “You’re all prettied up. Little early to be stepping out with Dennison, isn’t it?” It was barely eleven o’clock in the morning.

  “I haven’t been stepping out with him,” Julienne retorted sharply. “It’s a little early to be drinking in the Blue Moon, isn’t it?”

  “I haven’t been drinking this morning,” he said quickly, but he dropped his eyes.

  “You smell like you’ve been drinking for a week,” Julienne said with open disgust. “And you stink like cheap perfume. But I
don’t care about that. I’m glad you brought up Lyle Dennison, because that’s who I want to talk to you about.”

  His head came up alertly, and he repeated, “Dennison? What about him?”

  Julienne shifted in her chair a bit and she began fidgeting, rubbing her fingers together restlessly. “You know I’ve always wanted to fix the Queen up so we can start having passengers, and a dining room and dancing.”

  “Yes, I know,” he said cautiously. “And I’ve told you that’ll happen one day, but it’s going to take awhile before we can establish a reputation so the bank will loan you the money.”

  “Lyle’s loaning me the money,” Julienne said defiantly. “He says the Queen would be a good investment for him.”

  “What!” Dallas almost shouted. “Have you lost your mind, woman, to even consider that?”

  Julienne swallowed hard and managed to make her voice even and firm. “I’m not just considering it, I’ve already done it. This morning I signed the papers.”

  Dallas jumped up, knocking the chair over so hard it skittered across the floor. After pacing back and forth several times, his face working, he turned back to her.

  “How much?” he asked, his voice rising.

  “A lot, but we can pay it back easy,” she said quickly. “The payments are only ninety-four dollars a month.”

  “How much?” he repeated loudly.

  “T-ten thousand dollars,” Julienne answered. This time she couldn’t keep her voice from faltering.

  His head dropped and he took a deep breath. He stayed that way, standing still with his arms at his sides, his head down, breathing hard. Julienne knew he was trying to control his temper. After what seemed like a long time he looked up at her, and his face was as darkly set as she had ever seen it.

  “Ten thousand dollars,” he said in a dead tone. “Julienne, you could build a whole new steamer from the keel up, twice as big as the River Queen, fully outfitted.”

  “I don’t have to use all the money,” she argued. “It’s been deposited in our bank account. Lyle just said he wanted to make sure I had plenty. I can make the payments as long as I want, and he said that in a few months the Queen will make enough money to completely pay off whatever monies I’ve used, and the loan will be paid off.”

  “Uh-huh. And so, who’s managing this refit? Who’s getting the estimates from the carpenters, the painters, the metalworkers, the glassmen, all the vendors? Who’s getting the extra crew you’ll need, and who’s buying the extra safety equipment you have to have when you carry passengers, and the permits? Who’s hiring the cooks and servants you’ll have to have?”

  “Lyle can take care of all of that,” she said disdainfully. “He’s already done lots of work on the Columbia Lady, and he’s got contacts in all kinds of businesses, and he’s got craftsmen of all kinds working for him on different enterprises. He says he can probably get the Queen renovated and back on the river in a week or ten days.”

  “Yeah, he’s got contacts all right,” Dallas growled. “And a lot of investments, including a bunch of saloons and gambling halls and brothels in Natchez-Under-the-Hill. He tell you about those business ventures, Miss Ashby?”

  Her face paled for a moment, but then she resumed her defiant gaze. “I’m sure Planter’s Bank does business with those kinds of places, but you wouldn’t say a word if I was getting the loan from them.”

  “Oh yes I would. If you’re so taken with Dennison that you want to make excuses for him, fine. I’ll leave him out of it. But haven’t you learned anything, Julienne, from losing your house and plantation? If you take out a loan against the River Queen, then you don’t own her any more. You might lose her. Didn’t that ever enter your mind?”

  “No, it didn’t! Lyle’s a friend, and we’re going to be able to pay him back whatever money we use for the Queen in a few months. He would never take the River Queen away from me!”

  “She’s not just yours. She belongs to your family. Did you talk to them about this?”

  Julienne’s face worked, and now she, too, jumped out of her chair and came to stand in front of him, scowling. “You seem to be forgetting something. You’re not in my family. You are the pilot of the steamer that my family owns. You have no right to ask me any questions about my family!”

  “So you didn’t tell them,” he said tightly. “And you’re exactly right, ma’am, about you and your family. I just work for the Ashbys. But even though you’re as blind as a bat, I can see it coming. As of today everyone on this boat’s working for Lyle Dennison. And I’m not going to work for him. I don’t care if I have to go back to being a roughneck.”

  “Well, I guess that means you’ll be leaving then!” Julienne shouted angrily.

  “I guess so!” he shouted back. “And one last thing, Miss Ashby. I was working for you and your family to help you, and you helped me too. But you’re not going to find another pilot on this earth that’s going to work for seventy cents a day. You’re looking at three or four hundred dollars a month to replace me. Maybe that ten thousand dollars you borrowed isn’t so much money after all!”

  He stalked through the doors, and Julienne knew he was going to his stateroom to get his things.

  She was so angry that for a few moments she was glad he was leaving. Throwing herself back into one of the cheap slat chairs, she thought with vicious triumph, Soon I’ll be sitting on a heavy padded chair covered in velvet. Blue, maybe . . .

  But after awhile of gloating, she began to think of Dallas’s words, and for the first time she let some of those faint voices of doubt finally filter through to her conscious mind. Three hundred dollars a month for a pilot? And just the payment on the loan another hundred dollars? That’s four hundred dollars a month I just committed to, and that doesn’t include anything else at all!

  She started feeling slightly panicky, but with an iron will she forced herself to be calm. How many times in the last months had she said to herself, I can’t do this! I won’t do this! but then she did do whatever it was, whether cleaning the sanitary rooms or eating oxtail soup. She could do this, and she would do this. Even without Dallas Bronte.

  Her heart sinking, she realized the plain truth.

  As of today she no longer had Dallas, and she no longer had a choice.

  DALLAS PACKED HIS FEW belongings and left the Queen. He didn’t say anything to any of the crew or to the rest of the family. This action of Julienne’s had been like getting hit in the face. Once he had actually been hit in the stomach so hard it had knocked the breath out of him, and that’s what he had felt like when Julienne had told him of this disaster.

  He went back over to the Blue Moon, and with one look at his face Otto poured him a double. Dallas took it, downed it, and grunted, “Another.”

  While he was pouring it, Lulie came up, wearing the same grubby green dress she’d worn the day and night before. It was soiled, and the black lace around the neck was torn. She had lost weight, and one shoulder of the limp fabric kept slipping off. “Back so soon, Dallas?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said shortly. “And I don’t want to talk about it. Otto, give me back the room for the night, and another bottle of the real stuff. Lulie, I don’t want to be rude, but I just want to be alone for awhile.”

  “No, no, Dallas, you go on, I just now got down here. I need to work, earn some money,” she said quickly, then added in a low, slightly ashamed voice, “and I could use a drink.” Lulie had drunk the entire bottle of whiskey last night, except for two shots that Dallas had had.

  “Give us both a drink, Otto,” he said quietly. Ritter Kahn wasn’t there, but two dusty-looking hard-faced men with guns were sitting in the corner, their boots propped up on the tables, watching.

  Otto poured Lulie’s fake shot and Dallas’s real one, Dallas turned his back and traded them swiftly. Lulie downed hers, and sighing, Dallas tossed bac
k the tasteless tea as if it were the best smooth whiskey. “I’ll come back down later tonight,” Dallas said to her. “I’m just gonna take a while and think.”

  “Okay,” she said lightly, kissing him on the cheek. “Goodness knows I can’t help you do that.”

  “Want a bottle?” Otto asked.

  “No, maybe tonight,” he answered and went upstairs, back to Room 12. The empty bottle and two shot glasses were still on the table. The cot’s sheets were mussed, where Lulie had slept, and the pillow was still on the floor where Dallas had slept. He had told Julienne the absolute truth. To him Lulie was something like a little sister.

  He ached all over from sleeping on the floor, so he tossed the pillow up onto the cot, took off his jacket, gunbelt, and boots, and laid down. It was sweltering in the room, and it stank of whiskey and sweat and just plain old dirt and grime, and Dallas thought he would never go to sleep. I’ll just lay here for awhile and figure out what to do, he thought grimly. I thought I’d never find myself in this position again, holed up in a fleabitten room with no job. I should know by now that you can’t count on a soul on this earth. I was a fool to think I’d ever be anything but a servant to Julienne, I mean to the Ashbys, he mentally corrected himself. Their conversation played over and over again in his mind until he was actually physically tired from the mental exertion. And so he finally let himself drift off into an uneasy doze.

  Gunshots!

  Without even blinking Dallas jumped up, put on his gunbelt and boots, and ran downstairs. He had heard three gunshots, a pause, and then two more. Now men were yelling and women were screaming. It was chaos when he reached the saloon.

  He scanned the room, his sharp eyes taking in everything: a dead roughneck, another wounded, Ritter Kahn and one of his men standing holding smoking guns, a line of bottles broken along the wall, Otto peeking up from where he knelt behind the bar. And then he found Lulie. Two of the other girls were knelt over her, lying on the floor. A big black stain was creeping over her stomach. Dallas went to her, scooped her up in his arms, and ran down the boardwalk.