by Jasmine
Jasmine couldn’t think of anything to say in the face of Vance’s silence.
“Didn’t I hear you tell Clem earlier that he missed the rehearsal last night?” David continued reciting the evidence of the actor’s guilt. “By a strange coincidence, that’s when the rest of the gang got the instructions they were waiting for. He’s their leader—the reason the bank robberies are so successful. If I hadn’t been there when they struck this time, he would’ve gotten away with it again.”
Vance’s head jerked up. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s too late for you to claim innocence now, Hargrove.” David folded the money and put it into his own pocket. “I’ve got all the proof I need.”
“Wait a minute. Do you think I’m a bank robber?”
The incredulity in Vance’s voice could not be faked. Hope sprang anew in Jasmine’s chest. Something was wrong. She put an arm through his. “You won’t take him to jail unless I go, too.”
David’s glance speared her. “You’re not Pocahontas, and he’s not the noble Captain Smith. He’s a bank robber at best and a murderer at worst. Stand back and let me get him out of here.”
She lifted her chin, ready to mount a strong defense.
But Vance shook his head and pulled her arm away from his. “Don’t worry, Jasmine. We’ll get this all sorted out. I may not be as honest as I should be, but there’s no way I can be convicted of robbery.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Hargrove.” David gave a shallow bow and spread his hand out in the direction of the town. “We’ll see what the prisoner has to say about it when he sees your face.”
Jasmine wanted to go with them, but she knew neither of the men would agree. She turned away and went in search of Clem, finding her standing near the stage, a worried look on her face.
“Where have you been?” Clem’s question came out in a squeak. “Do you know what’s going on? Where’s Mr. Hargrove? Is he hurt? Miss Barlow is telling everyone he won’t be back for his skit or the final pageant. I know he missed rehearsal last night, but this is inexcusable. Mr. Easley will have his head.”
“Clem, I need your help.” Jasmine kept her voice low and even. “I need some advice from someone I can trust.”
“What’s wrong? Does it have to do with Mr. Hargrove?” Her eyes widened. “Are he and David going to have a duel?”
Now it was Jasmine’s turn to gape. “Of course not. What gave you that idea?”
“David was asking for him earlier, and I know how protective he can be. I thought maybe he’d heard that …” Clem stuttered to a stop. “I mean, I heard that …” She stopped again.
“What have you heard, Clem?”
“The doctor in Cairo told someone that we’ll soon have a baby traveling with us.” Clem’s face turned as red as a beet. “And I knew it wasn’t me, so I just thought …”
Jasmine’s head buzzed as she jumped to the conclusion Clem was so hesitant to voice. “You think I’m pregnant?”
Clem nodded. “Aren’t you?”
“No!” Jasmine’s shout carried out over the audience. She pulled Clem away from the stage. “As soon as the performance is over, we’ve got to get back to the boat.”
It took another hour, but they finally entered their bedroom and closed the door. Clem helped her out of her Pocahontas costume, and they both clambered onto the bed. “Clem, before I can tell you what’s really going on, I need you to promise you won’t say a word to anyone.”
Clem’s gaze turned solemn. She raised her right hand. “I promise.”
Jasmine took a deep breath. Where should she start? “The first thing you need to know is that David isn’t my brother.”
“He’s not?”
“No, we grew up together on my sister’s riverboat, but we’re not related at all.”
“Then why is he—”
“He’s a Pinkerton detective, and he’s been trying to catch a gang of bank robbers who seem to have some connection to the Ophelia.”
“Mr. Hargrove?” The other girl drawled the name, making his last name three distinct syllables. She might be from Ohio, but her voice sounded like she’d been born and raised much further south.
Jasmine nodded. “At least that’s what he thinks. But something isn’t right. At first Vance acted guilty, but when David mentioned the bank robberies, he seemed surprised. I don’t know what Vance may have done, but I’m sure he’s not part of any gang.”
“What do we need to do?” Clem whispered the question as if concerned that the walls might overhear them.
“We’ve got to find out who the real culprit is.” Jasmine lifted her chin when she saw the dubious look from Clem. But what else could they do? They couldn’t stand by and let an innocent man hang.
“I am not a robber.”
“That’s right.” Hiram leaned against the wall of his neighboring cell. “Didn’t you hear him? He’s just a thief.”
Vance put his head in his hands and groaned. “I know how it must sound, but you have to believe me.”
David wondered why Vance continued to insist on his innocence. It made no sense to him. When confronted several hours earlier, he’d immediately produced money that proved his guilt. Why claim now that he was skimming money from the Ophelia’s manager? Why not just go ahead and admit the whole truth? “If you’ll steal from the people you work with, how do you expect me to believe that you wouldn’t take part in robbing a bank? Especially once you figured out how to keep your own hands clean in the process.”
Vance’s bleary eyes focused on his face. “Because it’s the truth.”
A part of David wanted to believe the man in spite of all the evidence to the contrary. But he was an actor. He could be playing the part of the innocent victim.
“It’s like I told you. This morning I put a rather large wager on the Marc Antony to win the race. I was sure I’d double my money. It was a safe bet. That boat should have won.”
“But it didn’t.” David stated the obvious.
“That’s right. I know you won’t believe me, but I’d decided to stop taking money from the Easleys. As soon as I won the wager, I knew I’d have enough to keep myself comfortable. I wouldn’t have to pad my salary anymore. If only that stupid boat captain hadn’t run us into a snag.”
“And you don’t have anything to do with the bank robberies?”
“No.” Vance stood up and walked to the door of his cell. “But if someone aboard the Ophelia is working with the robbers, I may know who it is.”
Hiram’s face lost its grin. He sat up. “You’d best stubble it.”
Vance hunched the shoulder closest to Hiram and looked toward David. “If nothing else does, his reaction just now should tell you that I’m not the man you’re looking for.”
“I was pulling your leg.” Hiram settled back once more, assuming an uncaring expression. “Go on and tell him your idea. I need a good laugh anyway.”
David wondered which of them made the better actor.
“Haven’t you noticed how Rafe Griffin has been absent from rehearsals lately?”
The question was like the tiniest leak in a levee. David thought about seeing Rafe sneaking through town Sunday morning. The man had been acting strange lately, less jovial than when David had first joined the Ophelia. Was he the real culprit? Was he worried the authorities would catch him after the death of one—no two—of his men? The questions swirled in his mind, making it hard to think.
“I need to get some sleep.” David pushed himself up from the seat that had grown hard over the past hour. “They ought to be wrapping up the pageant by now. Sheriff Cunningham said he’d be back as soon as it’s over.”
“You have to listen to me.” Vance put his arms through the bars of his cell and rested his weight on them. “Go back to the Ophelia and at least talk to Rafe. You owe me that much.”
“I don’t owe you anything.” He had to give it to Vance Hargrove. The man had an overrated sense of his own importance. Not only did he try to c
onvince David that he was innocent, but now he was trying to throw suspicion on another man.
And what about his plans for Jasmine? The very idea of the two of them together made him physically ill. David still remembered how Jasmine had sounded when she told him that Vance’s kiss was better than his. He’d wanted to drag her back into his arms right then and prove to her that he could make her swoon. Maybe he should have. And maybe he should have gotten her off the Ophelia back then. At least she wouldn’t be in danger of falling in love with a felon. David hoped she hadn’t lost her heart to Vance. He hated to think of her mourning the man while he served a life term in prison, or worse, ended up dangling from a noose.
The sky outside the jailhouse lit up, and David walked to the window. Spider webs of blue, yellow, and red sparkled against the black sky before fading away. He had missed a large part of the celebration, but at least he’d been able to watch Jasmine perform, and now he had a front row seat to the grand finale. It was a fitting end to his mission.
The Illinois Central Railroad ran between Cairo and Chicago. The territorial marshal shouldn’t have any trouble getting the criminals back for a trial. All David had left to decide was what to do about Jasmine. He couldn’t leave her on the Ophelia. And he knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t go back to Les Fleurs if he didn’t take her there. She was more likely to board the train to Chicago herself, eager to prove Vance’s innocence to the authorities in that town.
For a moment he considered the attractive idea of Jasmine in Chicago … but then discarded it. Now that he no longer had to focus on the gang of bank robbers, David knew he needed to get her back to the people who loved her, the people who would protect her from her worst enemy—her own driving ambition.
He left Sheriff Cunningham at the jailhouse and trudged back to the Ophelia. His stomach was empty, his heart weary. He didn’t even know what he was going to say to the other actors on the showboat. Should he tell them the truth about Vance? If the man was as guilty as he believed, he wouldn’t be returning. But what if David had arrested the wrong man? What if it was Rafe? Or Mr. Easley? Or some other man he hadn’t even considered? The questions in his mind were absurd, the product of an exhausted mind. Vance Hargrove wasn’t innocent. He couldn’t be. The man was playing some kind of game for his own purposes, maybe trying to muddy the water enough so he could swim away, free to continue his wicked enterprise somewhere new. David could never let that happen.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Clem’s quiet snores weren’t the reason Jasmine couldn’t sleep. Like a beaver worrying the bark from a sapling, her mind kept working at the question of Vance’s guilt or innocence. David was smart and knew how to do his job. He wouldn’t have arrested Vance if he wasn’t sure the actor was guilty.
But how could Vance be guilty? After spending weeks in his company, she had realized he was not the dashing hero she’d thought in New Orleans. But a bank robber? She refused to believe Vance Hargrove was that evil. And what about the man who had been murdered? Could Vance have ordered his death? How could she reconcile this image of a cold-blooded criminal with the man who had, for the most part, been kind to her?
No matter how she looked at it, Jasmine could only find two possible answers, each of which excluded the other—believe Vance was innocent or believe David was right. She hadn’t known Vance for even a year, and she had known David all her life. The choice was simple. Jasmine wished it was easy, as well.
She threw off her sheet and blanket, unable to lie still any longer. Claustrophobia clamped anxious fingers around her throat. If she stayed in this room, Jasmine was afraid she would lose her mind. Rising from her bed, she exchanged her gown for the clothes she’d draped across the end of her bed and slipped out of the room.
Candles flickered in the hallway as she picked her way upstairs. Relief eased the tension in her neck and shoulders when she opened the door and sucked the cool night air into her lungs. The only sound out here was the soft sigh of a midnight breeze and the gentle slap of the water against the edge of the barge. Above her head God had flung a giant saltshaker of stars into the blackness of the sky. The trees on the opposite shore stood shoulder to shoulder, an army of enemy soldiers intent on subduing the countryside. The river was a dark and mysterious highway, capturing a sliver of light from the moon above as it rushed ever southward. She breathed deeply of the pine-scented air, trying to calm the melee in her head.
Turning her back on the river, Jasmine leaned into the rail, her gaze combing the bleak landscape of this side of the river for answers. The town of Cairo was dark, its citizens resting from the exciting day. A movement startled her as a shadow separated from one of the spindly pine trees between the riverbank and the town. Someone was walking toward her. Thoughts of murder and robbery came roaring back into her head. Was the real culprit sneaking back to the Ophelia?
Her heart clenched in fear, but before she could decide whether to run or scream—or both—an errant beam from the moon illuminated his face. David. Her terror abated with the recognition, replaced by curiosity.
His head was down; his shoulders drooped. Something was wrong. David should be elated by his success. Putting aside her own confusion, Jasmine called his name.
His head jerked up. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Jasmine.”
“What are you doing out here at this hour?” He changed direction, walking toward the gangplank that connected the barge to the riverbank.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I had to wait for Sheriff Cunningham to return. I didn’t want to leave the prisoners alone.” David reached her side, and she could see the frown on his face. “Your turn.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” Jasmine left out the part about the walls of the bedroom closing in on her. “I decided to come out for some fresh air.”
“You know the rest of Vance’s gang is camped out somewhere near. I don’t like the idea of your standing out here all alone.”
She should be upset at his complaint, but Jasmine could hear the concern in David’s voice. It echoed the way she’d felt earlier in the day when she had come face-to-face with the idea that David could have been hurt trying to protect her. It was time to apologize for adding to his burdens. “I’m sorry for causing so much trouble.”
David said nothing. His face, half in shadow, didn’t betray his thoughts. As the silence lengthened, she began to wonder if he would accept her apology. Had she finally pushed him so hard that he no longer cared about their friendship?
Another minute passed, and she couldn’t stand it any longer. “Aren’t you going to say something?”
“I’m just trying to overcome my shock. What’s changed? Is it because of Vance, or have you finally seen what kind of people you’re living with?”
Jasmine blinked. Maybe she was sleepier than she’d realized. “What are you talking about, David?”
“I’m talking about the loose morals and decadent lifestyles of the theater.”
“And you think that’s why I want to be a famous actress? So I can lead a shameful life? Sometimes I think you don’t understand me at all.”
“I know you’re doing this for all the wrong reasons, Jasmine. You’ve said yourself that you want to be famous. Can’t you see how destructive such a goal can be?”
She straightened. “Fame and fortune are not bad things. I can hold onto my morals and still be a part of this world.”
David’s eyes closed, and he shook his head. “I wish that were true.”
“What about you? Don’t try to convince me that you don’t enjoy the slaps on the back for a job well done.”
Jasmine waited for his answer.
“You’re right to an extent. When I foiled an attempt to rob the coach I was on last year, I was pretty proud of myself. The passengers were so complimentary. It felt good. I accepted a job offer with the Pinkerton Agency with the idea that I wanted to spend my life repeating that experience.” He paused and swallowed. “One day
God tapped me on the shoulder. I was riding along with a payroll train that was attacked. I killed one of the robbers and wounded one, a kid too young to shave. A pastor on the train stepped forward and shared the Gospel with that kid right there in the middle of nowhere. He was saved that day—I watched as he changed. God used that pastor, but He also used me and the talents He’s given me to make a difference. I like to think that if I save a man’s life, maybe he’ll have time to repent and turn to God.”
What made him think God wasn’t using her talents, too?
As if he had read her mind, David shook his head. “Providing an hour or two of entertainment isn’t a bad thing in itself. I was proud of you back in Natchez when you were helping the orphanage, but what you’re doing now is for your own purposes.”
Jasmine was beginning to wish she’d never come up on deck. But she couldn’t let his condemnation go unchallenged. “How can you say I won’t touch lives? When I get to be famous, I can use my resources to rebuild dozens of orphanages.”
“Like you’re doing right now?” He cocked his head.
“That’s not fair. I’m just starting out. Once I become a star, everything will be different.”
“No it won’t, Jasmine. That’s just the point. Jesus said if we are unjust in the least things, we’ll be unjust in greater ones. You can’t wait to become rich or famous. You can’t expend all of your talent getting the things this world labels valuable and expect to hold onto what’s really important.”
The words rang with power and truth. For a moment Jasmine felt like a curtain had been lifted. Was she already growing calloused and hard? Immoral? No. She was still the same person she’d always been.
“What about my obligation to Mr. and Mrs. Easley? To the other actors on the Ophelia? I know it’s not your fault that Vance is guilty.” There. Maybe by admitting that he was right, David would see that she was not the selfish, heartless person he accused her of being. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we can’t hope to replace him before getting to St. Louis. And my part may not be as vital as his, but I’m filling in for Angelica. If I leave now, the whole company might fold.”
