Jewel of Promise

by Marian Wells

  Treasure Quest Books

  Jewel of Promise

  Marian Wells

  © 1990 by Marian Wells

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  11400 Hampshire Avenue South

  Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

  www.bethanyhouse.com

  Ebook edition created 2012

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of

  Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan

  All rights reserved. No part of this publicaion may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—with the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Manuscript edited by Penelope J. Stokes.

  Cover illustration by Brett Longley.

  eISBN 978-1-4412-6247-9

  To my special people:

  David, Carol, and Alisha Well,

  with thanks to David

  for his help on the manuscript

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  About the Author

  Books by Marian Wells

  Back Cover

  Chapter 1

  Mike Clancy steered the Golden Awl into the shade of the giant oak tree. Looking up at the long branches hanging low over the Mississippi, he grinned with satisfaction. They created a tunnel of cool shadows, but it was more than cool comfort Mike sought. Thinking of the cargo in the main cabin, Mike felt the familiar thrill of apprehension.

  With the last thrust of the paddles, he sent the little sternwheeler in against the bank. He nodded to the Negro roustabout watching him from the main deck. The fellow jumped to the bank, tugged the boat close and wrapped the rope around the tree. By the time the man came aboard, Mike had clattered down the metal stairway and was waiting at the railing.

  He nodded to the roustabout and lowered his voice. “This is a nice quiet place to spend the night, Jake.”

  “The old river’s mighty low,” Jake murmured. “Them frogs going to have mud up to their knees.”

  “Shall we drop a fishing line over while we’re waiting on sunset?”

  The man nodded and went after the tackle. Mike poked at the can of worms nestled in the coil of a rope. Silently they baited their hooks and dropped them into the water swirling past the hull. Jake pulled in his first fish, nodded toward the river, and said, “Might be that boat ’longside of us this afternoon was river patrol.”

  “I wondered too.” Mike muttered. “He cut his speed every time we did.” A yellowing leaf dropped into the water, and Mike looked up at the tree. “Riverboating is about finished for the fall—for the likes of us, at least. Don’t feel safe taking it down without a full crew.”

  Jake pulled in a big catfish. “Reckon the darkies will make a good stew out of this one. Want I should take it upstairs?”

  “Might as well. Clean them both. I’ll keep my hook in the water until dark. Tell them to keep the place dark. They can open the door to the cabin, but not a sound. We’re sure missing Olivia this trip; the little ones need someone to give them attention.”

  With a nod Jake carried the fish upstairs. Mike coiled his line and leaned against the railing, whistling tunelessly as he watched the river. The darkness deepened until his arms, folded across the railing, seemed an extension of its whiteness.

  A fish jumped midstream. Mike was watching the phosphorescent arc when he heard a whisper of sound. Leaning back against the white bulkhead, he strained to hear over the thumping of his heart. When he heard a rustle of dry leaves, he relaxed. “Deer or cow,” he muttered.

  But as he peered into the shadows, a shadow moved away from the trunk of an oak, paused, came swiftly down the bank, and leaped over the railing. Even in the darkness he could see the creature as it landed on the deck, nearly at his feet. He grasped the object and felt warmth and motion. A voice squealed. “Oh, another one,” he muttered.

  The warm softness pulled away from Mike. “You startled me. I didn’t know anyone was here. Take me to your master.”

  The voice was feminine and very Southern, confirming his suspicion. “I am the master,” he said. “What is your business?”

  There was a gasp. “Business? I guess—I need a ride. I have money; I’ll buy my trip north. You must be going that way—at least, you’re pointed upstream. Send someone to fetch my valise—it’s over in the bushes.”

  He hesitated, annoyed by the demanding Southern voice. This one’s no doubt been beaten for being arrogant. He heard Jake’s footsteps on the stairs. “Jake, go get that bag.” Abruptly he grasped her arm. “Who told you about us?”

  “No one. I—I’ve just been looking for a ride. I’m running away.”

  “That’s obvious. Are you alone? Does your master live close by?”

  “Master? No, no, you don’t understand. I’ve walked forever.”

  Still uneasy, Mike tried to see the face hidden by deep shadows. Slowly he admitted, “Well, we’ve made it a point to not turn anyone away. But there’s always a possibility—for the sake of the others I don’t want to be caught. Come on. We’ll get some food into you. I suppose you haven’t eaten for a couple of days. Oh, Lord, I wish Alex were here,” Mike muttered, leading the way up the stairs.

  The first gleam of moonlight filtered through the branches of the tree as he walked into the cabin. The glow from the cookstove fire outlined the dark heads of the people lining the table. He closed the door and said, “We’ll need some light. We have another passenger for the Underground Railroad.”

  Mattie turned from the stove. “There’s candles on the table just awaitin’ on y’all. Tessie, get us another trencher for this stew. Goin’ to be crowded in here, Mike.”

  “Let’s get the trenchers filled, and then some of you can move out to sit under the stairs.”

  The candle flared, and the line of dark, shining faces was illuminated. Mike turned toward the girl. He caught his breath. Stunned, he could only stare from her flaming red hair to her wide blue eyes set in white, white skin. He fought the dismay in his voice as he said, “With that accent I figured you to be a slave. Couldn’t see in the dark. Well,” he turned back to the silent group, “it’s obvious I’ve taken on a passenger I shouldn’t have. Miss, we’ll haul you up to Paducah, and then you can
look for accomodations more comfortable.”

  She narrowed her eyes and looked at Mike. “Slaves, huh? This is one of those boats that haul stolen property up to Canada? Well, I sure didn’t guess that. I—” Slowly she stopped, aware that she was making her own situation more difficult. “Please, can’t you give me a ride? I can’t risk being caught. I did run away. I must go as far north as possible.”

  Jake stepped close to Mike. “Suh.” By candlelight Mike could see his eyes were uneasy. “Suh, wasting time in Paducah, we could get caught right off. Maybe that boat was river patrol.”

  Mike looked into the young woman’s wide eyes, saw her clasped hands, and turned to pace the cabin. He recalled Alex’s story about Olivia joining the group in much the same way. For a moment Mike brightened. She’s just a little snip of a thing. Her eyes were dark, wide circles in the gloom of the cabin—lovely eyes. He softened.

  “Guess we don’t have a choice,” he said gruffly.

  ****

  The following day, with the morning sun nearly overhead, Mike heard the girl’s heels clicking rapidly up the stairs to the pilot house. She swirled through the door, settled her billowing skirts and ran her hands over her hair. “This wind is tearing me apart!”

  “Rough water ahead,” he muttered after a quick glance at her. “Mind bringing up a fresh pot of coffee?”

  “Me? I’m no slave. I’ll tell that girl Tessie to bring it to you—after I’ve had my say. I told you last night I’d pay my way, but I didn’t agree to share my cabin with slaves. Them—the children fussed all night.” She lifted her chin. “Please get them out of there before tonight.”

  Mike studied the current, watching the upcoming snag. Working to keep the impatience out of his voice, he said, “I can’t shove all those slaves into the same cabin. Those women feel just as you do; they want a little privacy, away from the men. You’ll have to be content with matters as they stand.”

  “I shall not!” She stomped her foot. “I’ll sleep on the deck before I spend another such night.”

  Mike sighed. “I’ve been sleeping in here. You can have the pilot house. But mind you, the wind blows through here at night.”

  “Well, I suppose it would be better for you to sleep on deck than me.”

  As she went through the door he said, “Please don’t forget the coffee. And you bring it, I want to talk to you.”

  An hour later he heard hesitant steps on the stairs. Visualizing her struggle with the pot of hot coffee, he grinned. Little lady, it just may not hurt you a mite to be on this trip with the likes of us common folk.

  She carried the coffee pot and mugs in the familiar wooden box. There was bread and meat also. “Pour the coffee and bring it here. It’s a nice smooth stretch of river; I can handle the bread and meat, too.”

  She came with the coffee and bread. Curiosity filled her eyes as she held out the sandwich and said, “I’ll hold the coffee.”

  He studied the hand holding the sandwich. Her fingernails were ragged, as if they had been chewed. As he accepted the sandwich, he felt her rough hand against his.

  She watched him take a bite, then asked, “You’re Irish, aren’t you? I guessed. You sound like a fella I knew—” she gulped. “Your brogue, it is.”

  He nodded, swallowed the bite and said, “Name’s Mike Clancy. Folks came from Ireland.” He gave her a quick look. “That makes me on about the same level as the slaves, doesn’t it?”

  She blinked. “You mean—I’m not looking down on you ’cause of that.”

  “You haven’t introduced yourself, Miss—or Missus.”

  She hesitated. “I’m Elizabeth Peamble. My friends call me Beth.”

  “And I’m to call you Missus?” He saw the dimple in the cheek turned toward him.

  “No, just call me Beth.”

  “So, Beth Peamble, what is your destination?”

  “North.” She straightened her shoulders, suddenly turning a bright smile on him. “I know the next question. Most young Southern women don’t run around the country without kin—without escorts.” She fell silent.

  “Well?” Mike waited.

  She turned away, sighing. “My mother died last spring, and Father sent me to live with my mother’s sister in Memphis. I hated it. I was just a nanny for the wildest young’uns on the earth. Daddy wouldn’t listen to me, and so I just took off. They’ll have to learn I can’t be treated that way.”

  He watched her eyes, thinking, She’s whistling in the dark. One minute she’s a woman, then she looks as if she’s frightened of her own shadow. I wonder what’s going on? Finally he asked, “So after they find out, what are you going to do about it?” The silence stretched long enough for Mike to pass a long line of barges. He glanced at her.

  “I haven’t planned that far.” Her voice was faint. She moved restlessly around the cabin. He had time to notice the grace of her movement, the well-formed slenderness of her body.

  He looked at the delicate cotton frock she wore, but he was thinking of the coarse touch of her hand when she had given him the sandwich. Last night, when she spoke, I guessed she was a slave. Why? She doesn’t sound like Olivia. Even in the dark I would know Olivia is—a lady.

  Watching the swirling water, he turned the wheel. She came back to him. “I suppose, unless Daddy does something about it, I’ll need to get a job. What do women do up North?”

  He chuckled. “Get married and have babies.”

  For a moment she looked startled. He saw the dimple again. “Suh, are you proposing?”

  “Well, you might give me time to think about it. Right now I would like more coffee.” She poured his coffee and came back to the wheel.

  “Do you live on this boat all the time?”

  “No. When I’m not on the boat I live with a Quaker family in Pennsylvania.”

  “I suppose they have something to do with the slaves.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why do you do this?” Beth asked.

  “I suppose I have a moral responsibility to these people.”

  “People!” she gasped. “How can you call them that? They’re slaves.”

  “The same God created us both. Matter of fact,” he teased, grinning down at her, “in the dark I guess I don’t notice the difference.”

  She frowned, and he added, “Before God, I feel responsible.”

  “You sound like He’s watching.” Her voice was frosty.

  “I’m very aware He is.”

  He glanced at her as she whirled away, asking, “Do they—the Quakers—take other boarders, at least for a short time?”

  “Boarders?” Mike faced her, liking the way the sunshine set her hair on fire and accented her creamy skin. He gazed at her. “Your eyes are nearly the bluest I’ve seen.”

  “Nearly?”

  “Yes. But Beth, you may not like that place.”

  “Then I’ll find another. Surely someone will take in a motherless girl until she can make her own way.”

  He cleared his voice. “How would a motherless Southern girl like living in a home where they care for runaway slaves?”

  She kept her head down as she answered, “I’ll have to think about that situation. But it does seem they could find a better occupation.”

  Chapter 2

  Back home in Mississippi, summer would barely be over, and the first cool tinges of fall would begin to blow in on an autumn wind. But here in Canada, winter was already on its way. Olivia gazed out the hotel room window at the bright cold morning, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Go home?” she gasped between sobs. “Alex Duncan, we’ve scarcely arrived! A fine honeymoon this has turned out to be. Please—” Olivia turned in time to see the hotel room door close abruptly. Her shoulders slumped. “Actually,” she admitted ruefully, “I know he doesn’t like this either.” Her hands relaxed and she shook her head. “You are acting like a baby, Olivia. No wonder he escaped on the run! Poor man.”

  She turned back to the window and shivered as she looked down t
he street. “Winter is coming early to Canada; since I don’t like snow, that should make me glad we’re leaving.”

  The morning sun highlighted the frost outlining each needle on the evergreens. “Lace crystals,” she murmured. “October trees decorated for Christmas. And I don’t feel like Christmas.” Her tears threatened to return as she looked around the room she had called the honeymoon cottage. This regal room, with its rose silk damask, crystal mirrors, and deep carpets was far from being a cottage. Admiring again the carved and polished dark walnut furniture, the corners of her mouth began to turn up. “Admit it,” she murmured, “you’re just sick with disappointment. For the first time since you’ve met Alexander Duncan, he’s been yours exclusively. Now it’s time to face life, with all that it holds.”

  ****

  The door behind her opened, then closed softly. For a moment she stiffened, trying to recover the emotion that had fueled her hasty words. She turned to see Alex, his blue eyes pleading. With a gasp she rushed to him. “Alex, it doesn’t matter; nothing matters except us—even a honeymoon finished before it is properly started. Just don’t leave me like that.”

  “Olivia, I wasn’t leaving you. I simply couldn’t make myself heard. I decided action was best.”

  “So you ran! Just like a man under fire!”

  “Fire? It was those tears. That’s something most men can’t handle.” He pulled her against his frosty coat and she shivered.

  “Hear me out.” He took her hands. “I didn’t intend to make you think I was angry or trying to force my will. I just made an important decision to purchase something, and I knew I must get it quickly.”

  “Get what?”

  He thrust the small velvet box into her hands. “I’ve been wanting to buy a gift for you. Something very special. I felt we needed it.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, I as much as you. Several days ago I saw this, but at the time I couldn’t decide. At first it seemed beautiful, and then I ended up feeling nearly depressed; and I didn’t want you to feel that way. Now it seems right. I’ll explain. Open it.”

  Holding the tiny jeweler’s box, she went to sit in one of the blue velvet chairs in front of the windows. “Look, Alex, the sun has turned the ice crystals into shining jewels.” Her voice trailed away in a whisper as Alex took the box and opened it.