The engines stopped, and Marlene ran at once to the railing. It was night, and the waters were dark as a coal pit in a coal mine it seemed to her.
The deck was alive with sailors shouting, “Man overboard!” Some had lanterns, but they made little difference in the darkness of the night.
The waters were ebony, and Marlene cried out, “Where are you?” knowing that it was useless but unable to stop herself.
The ferry stopped. The captain ordered two boats put down, and sailors tumbled into them and were lowered to the waters. They started circling the ferry, but the current at this point was very swift. One of the sailors came over and said, “I seen him go over, miss. The bravest man I’ve ever seen!”
Marlene nodded but asked, “How will we ever find him?”
“What I’m afraid of, miss, is that they may have been pulled into the paddles. I seen that happen once on the Mississippi. I hope it didn’t get these two.”
It seemed like an eternity to Marlene, but finally she saw something below moving. She strained her eyes and cried out, “There! Below! There they are!”
One of the boats was close, the men straining against the oars. Marlene watched as they pulled two bodies from the water and then pulled in close to a railing. One of the sailors came on board carrying the child, who was now crying and choking. She saw Faye get up and stagger, and one of the sailors helped him up.
Marlene could not speak for a moment, but her eyes were brilliant. She finally said to Faye, “You’re coming home with me. You’ll freeze in those wet clothes.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary.”
Marlene was insistent, and when the ferry docked, she pulled him off the boat, hailed a carriage, and gave the address of her home.
Faye was shaking and shivering.
She pulled him close to give him some body warmth. “We’ll get you thawed out when I get you home, Faye,” she whispered.
The room Faye entered with Marlene was obviously a rich man’s toy. He was still shivering and the soaking wet clothes clung to him, but his eyes went around the room.
Marlene pushed him onto the couch. “You’ve got to get out of those wet clothes.”
Startled, he stared at her. “I can’t do that.”
“Here. Take them off. I won’t look. Don’t be so modest.”
Faye had never undressed in the presence of anyone, especially a beautiful young woman, but she turned her back and demanded, “Hurry up! I’ll get the fire started.” She kept her back to him, and quickly Faye took off his wet clothes, including his shoes and socks. Quickly he wrapped the blanket around him, which brought a welcomed warmth.
While she lit the fire in the fireplace, he glanced at the room. A George II barrister desk and matching bookshelves filled one wall. An ornate marble fireplace, where she was making the fire, was opposite with two small velvet settees facing each other across a low teak table. Along the wall, by the door, was a massive bookcase with glass-covered shelves. Several trophy heads from Africa were on the wall, including a cape buffalo that stared at Faye with glassy eyes … almost malevolently, it seemed. A tiger with its fangs bared watched him from another wall.
“Here. Drink this.”
“What is it?”
“Never mind. It’ll warm you up.”
Faye took the glass that she had given him, took a swallow, and coughed.
She insisted, “Drink it all.”
He drank it down, and the fiery liquid seemed to burn all the way. “That ought to warm me up.”
“It should. It’s ten-year-old brandy. Are you getting warmer?”
“Yes, thanks a lot.”
“Well, let me hang your clothes over something.” She grabbed up his wet clothes, arranged some chairs before the fire, and then came back and sat down beside him. He shivered a little, and she reached out and pushed his wet hair off of his forehead. She left her hand on his cheek and said, “Faye, I’ve seen men, and women, too, do some pretty brave things, but I’ve never seen anything more courageous than what you just did.”
“Oh, swimming is about my only physical achievement.”
“It wasn’t just swimming. To go over in that dark water with that paddle wheel threatening to cut you in two … did you think about it at all?”
“Never gave it a thought. If I had, I’d never have gone.”
“How did you find that girl?”
Faye thought for a moment, wiped his face with his hand, and then said, “Well, as soon as I hit the water, of course, everything was just like being in a black box with no windows. So I just began swimming around feeling with my hands. I heard the paddles churning near, but I knew the child was somewhere. Then I touched something. It was her dress. I grabbed at it, caught her, and pulled her up, but the ship had gone on by us. She was scared, and I had to hold her head up. I couldn’t make much progress. It’s a good thing the ship stopped and they sent those boats.”
She took the glass from his hand and then took one of his hands in both of hers. “You deserve a medal for that.”
“Oh no, not really.”
She sat beside him, eliciting every fact about the rescue. Finally she laughed and said, “You know what I’m doing, don’t you? I’m going to put this in a story. It may be in the New York Times tomorrow with your name and all. You’ll be a hero.”
“Oh, don’t do that, Miss Marlene.”
“A modest hero!” Her eyes arched upward, and she squeezed his hand. “That is rare.”
They talked for a while until his clothes dried, and he drank several more swallows of the potion. As a matter of fact, by the time she had turned her back and he had struggled into his clothes, he was more than half drunk. He never drank alcohol other than one glass of wine with a meal. Now he felt warm and slightly dizzy.
When he stood up to leave, she put her arms around him and said, “I’ll never forget what you did, Faye, never!” She lifted her face, and even a shy man such as Faye Riordan could not resist lowering his head. Her lips were soft and yielding yet firm.
Faye felt something rashly stirring between the two of them and knew he was out of his depth with this woman. As he held her, it was as if something old and something new had come into him. There was a wild sweetness here and a shock that was completely outside his years of experience. He was also startled to feel the desperate hunger of her lips, which caused a hunger of his own to meet it. He felt himself losing control and suddenly drew his head back. “I–I’d better get back. I’ll miss the ferry.”
Marlene stared at him, her eyes wide. Then she began to laugh. “Well, I found a bashful hero. I didn’t think there was a man in America who could walk away from me at a time like this.”
“Would you—would you come and visit me, and I could show you some of my paintings?”
“Of course I will. When shall I come?”
“Would day after tomorrow be too soon?”
“Not at all.” She walked to the door with him and hailed a carriage. When he got in, she said, “Dream about me, Faye.”
He smiled, and as the carriage lurched off, he thought, Maybe I’m a better man than I’ve always thought!
Marlene came right on the hour, and Pat Ryan met the carriage and handed her down. She started up the steps and was greeted at once by Faye.
He smiled nervously. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“You must think I’m a fickle woman. I told you I’d be here.”
“Come in. I want you to meet my family.”
Faye had not prepared Marlene for the rest of his family. He introduced her to them, and Marlene saw at once that Faye was more his mother’s son than his father’s.
Eileen Riordan was a beautiful woman with auburn hair and light blue eyes. She came forward and said, “It’s so good to meet you, Miss Jenson.”
“And a pleasure to meet you. Faye’s already told me much about you.”
Marlene turned to Caleb Riordan and had to look up to him.
He was much larger than
Faye, a strongly built man. He smiled and said, “I couldn’t believe what you wrote in the paper about my son.”
“It’s all true,” Marlene said. “As a matter of fact, I could have been even more dramatic.”
She turned to greet Max and Leo, carbon copies of their father, she noticed, and then the group went in to dinner. It was an ornate dining room, and the meal itself was ornate. Marlene was perfectly at home.
The Riordans were fascinated by her career and plied her with questions, which she answered graciously.
Max was staring at her and said, “I wish I’d been there to see Faye save that child’s life.”
“So do I,” Caleb said instantly. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if Max or Leo had done it.”
“Why are you surprised about Faye? He went over the side of that boat in total darkness with paddle wheels churning just like I said. I thought he was a dead man. So did the rest of the crew and passengers on the ferry.”
“He won’t talk about it.” Eileen smiled.
“Well, if I’d done it, I’d be talking about it the rest of my life.” Caleb grinned. “I never have done anything that heroic, but I’m proud of you, son.”
“Thank you, Dad. Probably the last heroic thing I’ll ever do.”
“Don’t say that, Faye.” Sitting next to him, Marlene smiled. She reached over and put her hand on his head. “Once I get my hand on a hero, I make sure he comes through. I’ll find you another desperate situation.”
Everyone laughed.
After a fine meal and an hour’s talk in the parlor, Marlene left.
“That’s some woman.” Caleb shook his head. “I’ve never seen anyone quite like her.”
“Neither have I,” Leo said. “She’s been all over the world. Done everything.”
Max grinned. “You’d better hang on to her, Faye. With her courage and daring, she’d make you a good wife.”
“Don’t be silly,” Eileen said. “She’s rather an outgoing young lady.”
Caleb nodded. “Just what Faye needs.”
Later Eileen talked to Faye more about the woman, and he said, “Mother, I know this sounds foolish. I’ve never been in love before, but I think I might be in danger of it.”
“I’d be careful, son. She’s not a woman that would be easy to live with.”
“You mean I’d have to go to Madagascar or some wild place and shoot game?”
“I think her husband would have to be very active.”
“You don’t think I could do that?”
“You proved you could when you saved that child. When the courage was needed, it was there, but her kind of life wouldn’t suit your painting.”
That was about as long as the conversation lasted. Faye usually paid much attention to his mother’s counsel, but he paid no heed to this. He was thinking about the touch of Marlene’s lips as she pressed herself against him, the womanliness of her, and knew that he would see her again.
CHAPTER 3
Sunlight shed its golden beams on the bedroom that Eileen shared with Caleb. She was sitting at a Louis XIV dressing table facing a large mirror and running a brush through her abundant auburn hair.
Most of the house had been influenced by Caleb’s taste, which consisted of massive, strong furniture and rather outlandish colors. But the bedroom had been designed specifically by Eileen, and she had had her way. Silks, satins, bonnets, and shoes were arranged in a large cabinet on her left, and the ribbons, laces, velvets, swags, tassels, ruffles, curlicues, fringes, and brocades dominated the rest of the room. Sometimes she felt she had overdone the bedroom as a protest against the stark, strong, masculine qualities of most of the rest of the house.
The room was furnished with delicate furniture, including a fainting couch, which Eileen had never used, along one wall. She had thought it rather amusing that anyone would have a fainting couch and had said once to a friend of hers who had just bought one, “It looks to me, Mary, if you were going to faint, you would just fall on the floor. If you have a special couch, it means somehow you have to get across the room, position yourself, and fall gracefully. I think if I faint, I’ll just fall over backward. Fainting couches seem rather strange and not at all what a woman needs.”
Caleb stood across the room finishing his dressing by slipping into a snuff brown coat, one of his favorites. He liked expensive clothing, but his taste was not the best in the world. Eileen had long ago given up trying to get the idea across to him that clothes should make the wearer look somewhat distinguished.
“What do you think about this affair that Faye is having with that woman, Eileen?”
Looking up quickly, Eileen saw that Caleb was studying her, a small smile on his lips. She recognized that this was the heavy-handed humor of which he was so capable. “I’m not sure it’s a good thing,” she replied then returned again to brushing her hair.
“Not a good thing?” Caleb exclaimed. He shrugged his heavy shoulders and cocked his head to one side, saying, “Well, she’s a wealthy woman. She’s got lots of spirit about her. I like that. Maybe some of it will rub off on Faye.”
“I don’t think so. Faye’s not the kind to be influenced by that sort of thing.”
“What sort of thing? What do you have against her? She’s beautiful, and her father is a man after my own heart. Wades out in the jungle and fights snakes, lions, and who knows what.”
“I’m sure he does, dear, and I’m sure that the woman has courage to accompany him on those safaris and journeys into dangerous places, but I don’t think she’s a woman that Faye could be happy with.”
He came over and stood behind her and ran his heavy hand down her hair. “You know your hair is as beautiful today as it was the day I married you.”
The remark was so out of keeping with Caleb’s usual speeches that Eileen blinked. She felt tears come into her eyes, for she did not receive many of these compliments from Caleb. “Thank you, dear,” she said. “But as far as Marlene Jenson, she’s not a Christian woman.”
“How do you know that?”
“Why, I asked her. She didn’t make any bones about it.”
“Well, she may not be a Christian, but she’s dynamic and attractive and has money.”
Putting down her brush, Eileen rose and turned to face Caleb. She did not have many arguments with him, for although he never abused her in any way, his personality was so forceful that she was usually intimidated by him. “She’s an immoral woman, Caleb. Don’t you know that?”
“Well, I have heard that she’s had affairs.”
“She doesn’t make any attempt to cover up her past. And another thing that troubles me … she thinks Faye’s painting is just a hobby. That he needs real work.”
Caleb blinked with surprise. “Well, that’s exactly what I’ve always said, but you’ve never agreed with that.”
“No, I haven’t, Caleb.”
“But you must see a man can’t spend his life dabbing paint on canvas. He needs to step out, to take chances.”
“That’s the way your life has been, and Max and Leo are the same, and there is a need for men like that.”
“I should say so, and I’ve never ceased being amazed that you don’t see that Faye needs some of this in his makeup. You’ve made him into a helpless man, Eileen, but it’s not too late. This woman might change him. He could go on some of those trips with her and her father. It’d be a chance to do something great.”
Eileen sighed knowing that such conversation was pointless. She and Caleb had been going over this in one form or another for most of the twenty years of Faye’s life. She shook her head and said, “We’ve been over this again and again, Caleb. I’m not going to change. I see that Faye’s got a chance to do something … not heroic, perhaps, but that will bring beauty into the world. He can give pleasure to people.”
“You make him sound like an actor or an acrobat,” Caleb protested. “A man needs to fight in this world.”
“I don’t think we’ll ever agree, but I’m proud of
Faye just as you are proud of Max and Leo. Come. Let’s go down to breakfast and not talk about this anymore.”
The gallery was crowded, and Faye took Marlene’s arm as they threaded their way through the mass of people that had come. The walls were full of art for sale. Faye was amused by some of Marlene’s comments. They had stopped before a large painting that looked simply like the artist had stood six feet away and thrown small containers of brilliant-colored paint at the canvas and let it run down.
She turned to him and said, “Do you call that art, Faye? It just looks like a mess to me.”
“It is a mess. You’ll find this kind of phony art just as you’ll find it in some books. They are phony books. They don’t do anything. You can train a chimpanzee to throw paint at a canvas, I suppose, but it wouldn’t be art.”
“Well, I’m glad you think so. Let’s find something we do like.”
They moved along through the gallery, Marlene firing questions at Faye, and he tried his best to give his theory of art. “You see, Marlene,” he said as they stood before a well-done painting of a fox hunt, “this painting doesn’t speak to everybody, but to wealthy people who believe, especially the English, it captured a slice of their lives. They could look at it when they got old, too old to ride, and remember it, and it would be a warm memory for them.”
“I can see that, but you don’t paint fox hunts.”
“I may. I’ve painted stranger things.”
“Like what?”
“Come along. I’ll show you.” He led her through the crowd, and they came to stand before a series of paintings.
Marlene opened her eyes widely. “This is certainly different.” The paintings were real-life representations of the poor sections of New York City. Marlene stared at one of the pictures, which was nothing more than a ragged young boy, obviously from the poorest section of society.
“Why would an artist want to paint that boy?” Marlene asked. “I don’t see the point in it.”
“Just look at him.”
She looked at the painting more clearly and saw that the young, ragged boy had a broad hilarious grin.
Rosa's Land: Western Justice - book 1 Page 3
