by Gwynn White
“I will be aboard,” Grayson promised. He turned to his companion, and offering her his arm, led her from the store.
Briar frowned after them a moment, then stepped outside. Grayson and his new friend had already rounded the corner, but the woman’s accented voice carried back to her.
“…rustic charm, but it leaves me longing for an educated conversation.”
“Yes,” Grayson agreed.
“Yet you chose to travel in such a barbaric way, with a woman who dresses like a man.”
A carriage rattled past, and Briar missed the next snippet of conversation, though Grayson’s laugh carried back to her.
She was half tempted to go confront the pair of them and even took a step in that direction before she made herself stop. It was pointless to confront the over-dressed twit. It was unlikely the haughty woman would even punch her back. Hell, Briar would probably lay her out with one blow.
Grumbling to herself, Briar pulled out her new silver pocket watch and, noting the time, headed for her boat.
11
Grayson arrived with exactly one minute to spare. The mules were hitched, and Zach awaited her signal to head out. Watching Mr. Grayson stroll coolly along the docks toward their vessel tempted Briar to give the command, but when Zach lifted a hand to wave at Grayson, she knew he would hesitate to start the team, thinking she hadn’t seen their passenger. Perhaps she should have assigned Eli to be driver. He certainly wouldn’t care if they left Grayson behind.
“Good of you to join us,” Briar said as Grayson jumped from the dock to the boat. They had already pulled in the gangplank.
“Heard you were chatting with some Englishwoman,” Jimmy said as Grayson stopped beside him. “Any success?”
“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” Grayson answered.
“How does that pertain to you?” Briar asked.
Grayson just smiled, appearing in too good a mood to be bothered by the barb.
“Did you learn anything of importance?” she asked him.
“I did.”
Briar lifted her brows. “Go on,” she demanded when he didn’t continue.
“The man in question was on her train, but disembarked in Chillicothe.”
“We already knew that.”
“Yes, but what we didn’t know was that he traveled with two companions.”
“He has two soulless?” They had only encountered the one in Chillicothe.
“The second man was a well-dressed red-headed gentleman.”
Briar stared at him. “Andrew? He was in Chillicothe?” With Solon?
“Your cousin was in Chillicothe?” Jimmy asked. “Does he know you’ve taken the boat?”
“I’m sure he does by now,” she answered before turning back to Grayson. “Were you able to learn why Andrew was there?”
“That, I have no way of knowing,” Grayson answered. “My new friend had only a passing word with them before they departed her train.”
“I’m glad that your conversation with her wasn’t a waste of time.”
“Certainly not a waste of time,” Grayson agreed. “She also gave me the address of her friend’s residence where she’ll be staying in Columbus. She invited me to call when in town.”
Jimmy chuckled. “I figured he knew his way around the ladies.”
Briar caught the wink Grayson gave him. “I believe we have a boat to get underway,” she reminded them, then turned to Grayson. “Can the crew expect dinner, or has your romantic interlude left you out of sorts?”
“I’ll manage, Captain. Do I have your leave to begin? I shall need the afternoon if the cassoulet I’m planning is to be done in time.”
“You have my leave.”
Grayson nodded and headed for the hatch.
“What’s a castle-whatever?” Jimmy asked, walking beside him.
“Cassoulet. It’s a dish made from beans, and sausage, named for the vessel in which it is cooked. I’ll have to settle for a Dutch oven, but I’m sure I can make it work.”
The two men parted ways at the hatch, and Jimmy moved off to see about his duties.
Briar glanced over at Eli who stood a few feet away. “The sooner this errand is finished, the better.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Miss Briar.”
She nodded. “Then man the tiller and we’ll get the boat underway.”
“Aye, Captain.” With a grin, Eli walked off to do as she commanded.
“I bet that overeducated tart couldn’t command a canal boat,” Briar muttered, walking off to do just that.
They docked that night at Lockbourne, planning to make the twelve-mile trip up the Columbus Feeder Canal the next morning. The docks were always busy in Ohio’s capital, and it would be easier to navigate in the light of day. Besides, Lockbourne was home to one of the nicest taverns along the canal. Her crew would be disappointed if they passed it by during prime operating hours.
Guard Lock Tavern was a favorite among boatmen and a great place to catch up with friends along the canal, should they be docked at the same time.
Briar took her fiddle ashore with her, knowing she would just be returning to fetch it if not. Old Clem, the tavern’s proprietor always asked her to play when she stopped in.
“Good thing we got your fiddle,” Jimmy said as they followed the road from the docks. “Clem’s gonna be disappointed in our lack of appetite this evening.”
Grayson’s cassoulet had been well received at dinner this evening. Even Eli had offered a begrudging compliment when Grayson served him a fourth helping. Briar would never have guessed her crew would be so open to the different dishes that Grayson prepared, but he was a good enough cook that he could get away with it. What a shame she couldn’t find someone like him to hire permanently.
Jimmy proved to be right. Old Clem didn’t put up too much protest when they turned down a meal. Briar wasn’t so certain it was her fiddle, or Eli ordering a bottle of Clem’s finest. Though Clem had stroked his beard and given Grayson a speculative look. If most of his patrons hadn’t been in the whiskey already, she figured Grayson’s appearance in his fine clothes would have warranted a moment of silence.
With Jimmy’s hand on his shoulder, Grayson was soon part of one of several card games going on near the back of the room.
“Who’s the dandy?” Clem asked her.
“Just a passenger we picked up.” Briar laid her fiddle case on the bar and took out the instrument, preparing to play.
“I thought you ran a freighter.” Clem set a glass of whiskey beside her fiddle case.
“I do, but we were running light.”
“And he clearly has the ability to pay.”
“Yep.” She took a deep drink from her glass, relishing the burn.
“Hope he throws some of that money around here.”
She offered an indulgent smile and pulled her bow across the strings. She had yet to see any money from Mr. Grayson, but then, perhaps his abrupt departure from Portsmouth had prevented him from bringing any along. Not that it mattered now that he was working for his keep. His new lady friend probably wouldn’t find him nearly so attractive if she knew he was cook for a bunch of barbaric boatmen.
Briar launched into “Turkey in the Straw,” and the tavern patrons were soon clapping and stomping their feet. Some who’d had a little longer with their whiskey got up and danced.
The evening wore on, the whiskey flowed, and Briar lost herself to the merry tunes that told the story of this life she loved. This was her family, her high society, and she chided herself for letting another make her feel it was less.
She threw back another glass of Clem’s belly-warming payment for the entertainment, and allowing the captain of the Red Bird to hand her up onto a nearby table, she began a boot stomping rendition of “Cripple Creek,” accompanied by boisterous shouts and some off-tune singing.
Her own crew was scattered around the room, enjoying the camaraderie of old friends and no doubt swapping tales of the goings on along the canal.
<
br /> Grayson still played cards and by his changing companions, she suspected he must have been doing well. Though that didn’t surprise her. He seemed to do everything well.
The tavern door opened, and Briar looked up to see who entered. Her bow screeched to a halt as Darby and his crew stopped just inside the crowded room.
The harsh sound of her last note and the sudden absence of the music brought a hush to the room.
“I see you’re dancin’ the tables again Briar Rose,” Darby said, intentionally dropping the Captain.
“You back to vandalize my boat a second time, Dale Darby? Were you that ashamed that my crew tossed yours into the canal?”
Darby’s face turned red. “You ain’t got no call for them accusations.”
“I’d call you out right now except you won’t fight me.”
“But I will,” a female voice said from behind him.
Briar smiled when Hester Darby stepped past her willowy father. She topped her father by several inches and outweighed him by an even greater margin.
She gave Briar a gap-toothed grin. Darby must have stopped by the house to pick her up just for this encounter. How thoughtful.
Briar stepped down off the table, almost missing the chain she’d tried to use as a step. Fortunately, a hand caught her elbow before she ended up on the floor.
“Are you certain this is wise?” an accented voice asked.
To Briar’s annoyance, Grayson held her elbow. When he’d left his card game, she hadn’t seen.
She jerked her elbow from his grip, stumbling a little before she could turn and shove her fiddle and bow into his hands.
“Put that away for me,” she told him.
“You’ve had quite a lot to drink,” he whispered. “I don’t think you realize she’s twice your size.”
“And slow as a pregnant cow,” she shot back. “I whipped her last time we fought.”
A hint of amusement curled his lips. “Were you this inebriated?”
She pushed past him. “Outside,” she told Hester. “I won’t have you busting up Clem’s furniture when your fat ass smashes into it.”
Like her father, Hester’s face instantly turned red. Briar thought she’d charge her right there, but she allowed her father to herd her outside.
Briar followed, along with every person in the tavern. Nothing more exciting than a good fistfight—especially between two women.
The sun hadn’t yet set, but it had clouded up considerably. The gusting wind promised a coming storm.
“I’m gonna pound you to dust,” Hester told her. Though her father had sneered at Briar’s attire, Hester had adopted the same style of dress in her trousers and waistcoat, though Briar fancied she could make three sets for herself from the fabric involved.
“That’s what you said last time,” Briar reminded her.
They stopped in the dirt yard before the tavern. The crowd gathered on the front porch and the yard, forming a rough circle around them.
“Take ’er down, Captain Rose!” a man shouted from the crowd. It wasn’t one of her crew.
“You spread your legs for him, too?” Hester sneered. “Everyone says that’s how you got to be captain.”
“I inherited my boat,” Briar said through clenched teeth.
“Heard your cousin owns the boat. I also heard he’s real pissed that you took it.”
Briar stepped closer. “Where’d you hear that?”
“He came to the docks in Portsmouth looking for you Monday afternoon. Heard he’s offered a reward for news of your whereabouts.”
So Andrew had gone back to Portsmouth after he met Solon in Waverly? Had Solon gone with him? Maybe Andrew had agreed to take him to Martel. Apparently, they hadn’t found him if the pair was later seen in Chillicothe.
“Also heard about your fancy man,” Hester continued. “He paying to ride your boat, or something else?”
Briar slammed her fist into the woman’s big mouth.
The blow caused her to stumble back a step, and a cheer rose around them.
Hester turned her head and spit the blood from her mouth. “Forgot how strong you were, bitch.”
She charged toward Briar, a meaty fist pulled back for a punch that never connected. Briar ducked the blow.
Briar spun to face her, stumbling a little. Grayson might have a point about the inebriation, but Briar figured she’d have to be unconscious before Hester could get the better of her. After facing the soulless, Briar found the current contest like fighting in slow motion.
Her mind took her back to that fight, and she remembered how well Grayson had handled himself. She never had asked him about where he learned to—
Hester closed with her more quickly than she expected, and Briar wasn’t able to move fast enough, taking a glancing blow across the cheek. Damn, she hit hard.
“Pay attention,” Briar muttered to herself. She regained her balance, but the blow to the head must have knocked loose her brain that was already floating in whiskey fumes.
Her vision doubled, and for just a second, there were two Hesters coming at her. The two images merged into one just in time for Briar to avoid Hester’s next punch.
Briar stumbled back, shaking her head in an attempt to clear it. She had to end this soon.
On Hester’s next swing, Briar didn’t spring back. She simply leaned to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow. She came back with a punch of her own that the larger woman couldn’t avoid—or was too slow to avoid.
Briar caught her with a solid blow to the chin, the punch so hard it stung her hand.
Hester’s head snapped back and her body followed, though she managed to keep her feet under her as she staggered backward.
Ignoring the whoops and shouts from the crowd, Briar followed the stumbling woman and landed a second blow to one pockmarked cheek.
This time, Hester dropped to a knee.
“Had enough?” Briar asked.
Hester came off the ground with a roar like an angry bull—or maybe an enraged cow.
Briar saw it coming, but she was standing too close, and her impaired reaction time didn’t allow her to move quickly enough.
This time, Briar took the blow on the chin. The power of the punch knocked her off her feet and she landed on her back hard enough to knock the air from her lungs.
“Had enough?” Hester asked, standing over her.
Briar rolled onto her hands and knees and, shaking her head, shoved herself to her feet.
She had heard the expression seeing stars, but this was the first time she had experienced it.
She tried to blink away the sparkling lights, just catching a glimpse of Hester closing with her. She turned her head, but didn’t avoid the blow. Her balance still wasn’t what it should have been, and she staggered several steps to the side before she regained her equilibrium.
“This ain’t a fair fight,” Eli’s voice rose above the rowdy crowd. “Call off your cow, Darby. I’ll fight the best you got.”
“Sounds like your big man’s worried about you,” Hester said. “I bet I can guess how you keep him so loyal.”
Briar charged her, a small voice telling her it was stupid, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She caught Hester with solid jab to the stomach, but there was just too much padding for it to prove effective. All she got was a grunt from Hester and then the bigger woman was on her.
A blow to her own stomach doubled Briar over, then the woman grabbed a fistful of her shirt and jerked her close.
“I’m sick and tired of you showing up my Da,” Hester said in a low voice. “It’ll be different if you can’t use that pretty face to get your way.” Hester lifted her arm, and Briar caught a glint of metal in her fist.
“She’s got a knife!” someone shouted.
The world seemed to slow as Hester’s arm descended, the knife aimed for Briar’s face.
12
Briar tried to pull back out of the way, but her body wouldn’t respond.
Lock stirred in her poc
ket. If the little dragon emerged…
Suddenly, Grayson was beside her. He caught Hester’s wrist at the last moment, but only managed to knock the downward plunge of the blade off course. Instead of slicing into Briar’s cheek, the knife bit just below her collarbone then sliced across the front of her shoulder.
Hester released Briar’s shirt, allowing her to fall on her butt. Though instead of reaching for the wound, Briar pressed her hand over her pocket, fearful that Lock would reveal himself.
Grayson’s back was to her as he still held Hester’s wrist, the blood slicked knife in her hand. She cried out as Grayson must have squeezed, and the knife fell in the dirt at his feet.
With something close to a roar, Eli shoved Grayson aside and took Hester by the collar.
“Eli,” Briar called to him, but didn’t get to finish as he slung her across the ring of onlookers. She collided with her father’s thin frame, and they both ended up on the ground.
“Take your trash and get out of my sight,” Eli told Darby, his voice rough and dangerous.
Darby’s crew hurried over to help him and his oversized daughter to their feet. Darby’s face was red and Briar thought he might speak, but one look at Eli, and he seemed to have second thoughts.
Grumbling to themselves, captain and crew began to turn away.
“Darby, is it?” Grayson’s voice wasn’t loud, but something in his tone brought a hush over the crowd. Even Briar felt an instinctive need to remain as small and quiet as possible.
Darby slowly turned to face Grayson. “Yeah?” his voice was soft and quivered on the single word.
“Don’t forget this.” A flick of the wrist, and Grayson sent Hester’s knife whirling end over end toward the wide-eyed man.
The knife thunked into the tree behind him, having missed Darby’s cheek by a hair’s breadth.
“I missed on purpose,” Grayson said, his tone as cold and devoid of human warmth as the soulless man’s laugh.
Chill bumps rose on Briar’s arms, and she suspected she wasn’t the only one. No one moved or spoke.
Grayson turned his back on the old man and walked over to her. “Are you all right?” The coldness was gone almost as if it had never been there. He offered her a hand.
