River Queen Rose

by Shirley Kennedy

  When she asked why, he explained, “Because of the high-graders. Talbot’s got an armed guard who lives up there with his family. From what I hear, he’s got instructions to shoot first and asks questions later.”

  When she asked what a high-grader was, the clerk shook his head in disgust. “High-graders are lowlife thieves who sneak to the mines at night and steal the rich pieces of ore already mined. They’re a big problem around here. Hang ’em all, I say.”

  Rose had just spent four days traveling on a journey that couldn’t have been more exhausting. Her body ached with fatigue, cried out for a good night’s sleep. But none of that mattered, and when she left the general store to go find Deke, she had to keep herself from running.

  * * * *

  Tom Watkins, his wife, and two children lived in a log cabin overlooking the entrance of the Majestic Mine. As Rose and Deke rode up and dismounted, her heart pounded in her chest. As they walked to the door, from inside she could hear children laughing. The door opened before Deke had a chance to knock, and a short, plump woman with a kindly face peered out. “Yes? You wanted something?”

  Rose could hardly get the words out. “I’m looking for my daughter. Her name is Lucy. Is she here?”

  After the two longest seconds of Rose’s life, Mrs. Watkins beamed. “Why yes, dear, she is. What a lovely little girl. Tom and I have so enjoyed having her.”

  * * * *

  When Rose, followed by Deke, stepped inside, she found her daughter playing with dolls on the floor with another little girl. When Lucy looked up and laid eyes on her mother, she stared with disbelief and burst into tears. “Mommy! I thought I’d never see you again.”

  Rose swept Lucy into her arms. “Never mind, I’m here now. From this day on we’ll be together, and I mean that with all my heart.”

  “You promise?” Lucy asked through her tears.

  “I promise.”

  “Is Grandpa still mad at you?”

  “No, and neither is Grandma. Everything’s fine now.” She held her daughter at arms’ length. “Your cheeks are a bit thin, but otherwise you look fine.”

  Lucy broke into a smile. “You look fine too. I had fun playing with Luke and Sally.”

  “She’s talking about my two children,” Mrs. Watkins said. “They got along well together.” She shook her head regretfully. “I’m afraid we’re all a bit thinner. Like everyone else who lives up here, our pantry’s nearly bare. For the past few days we’ve existed mainly on watery porridge and the last of my peach preserves.”

  Deke turned toward the door. “We’ll soon take care of that. I packed enough for a good meal tonight, and then some.”

  That night, they all sat down to a dinner Mary Watkins called “the best meal we’ve had in weeks, maybe ever.” Later, after the children had been put to bed, Rose and Deke sat before a fire blazing in the huge stone fireplace and listened as their hosts expressed their shock. “I can’t believe Mr. Talbot would do such a thing,” Tom said. “One of his employees brought her up here. Said Lucy was an orphan. Mr. Talbot wanted us to keep her until he could find her a new home.”

  “Good heavens, I never dreamed,” Mary Watkins declared. “Tom and I had no idea Lucy was stolen.”

  Rose kept trying to reassure them that they weren’t to blame. “I’m so happy to have her back, I wouldn’t hold a grudge against anyone.” Except for Mason Talbot, she thought, but he was likely dead and not worth thinking about. “I’m so very grateful to you both. You took good care of Lucy, and that’s all that counts.”

  Rose had been living with the darkest of fears, that she would never see her daughter again. Now she had to keep telling herself this moment was real. The nightmare was past. How incredibly lucky she was. Whatever the future might hold, she knew beyond doubt this day was the best, most wonderful day of her life.

  * * * *

  When they returned to Sacramento, they found the entire riverfront area in a disastrous tangle of collapsed buildings and heaps of debris. But despite the devastation, Rose took heart at the manner in which business owners, from the smallest shops to the largest hotels, were out on the streets, feverishly clearing the muddy mess. Not once did she hear anyone say they were pulling up stakes and leaving. All the talk was of rebuilding, and fast.

  At the River Queen, Rose found everyone had pitched in to clear the floors of the residue of mud that had seeped in and covered most of the first floor. Some of the gambling tables were ruined but most had been saved. The restaurant suffered the worst damage, but Gaston seemed not the least distressed. “Mon Dieu, quel foutoir! Even though the carpet’s gone, we’ll be up and running in a week, madame.”

  That night, Rose luxuriated in a hot bath and delighted in crawling into her snug, warm bed. As she fell asleep, Lucy curled beside her, she couldn’t have been more content.

  Except for one thing.

  She and Deke had spent the last ten days together, hardly apart for a moment, yet they still hadn’t had that talk. Maybe they never would. Maybe he didn’t love her after all, and had been helping her for no other reason than out of the goodness of his heart.

  * * * *

  After Deke escorted Rose and Lucy to the River Queen, he hastened to Fleming & Carter’s Ice House. Or what was left of it. When he got there, he found Mitch, hands on hips, surveying the wreckage. Deke burst into a joyful yell. “Hey there, mate! So you didn’t drown in Suisun Bay after all.”

  Mitch filled him in on what had happened after he made off with Mason’s art collection. “I took that barge clear to San Francisco. Stored the paintings in a warehouse.”

  When Deke told him Mason had likely drowned in the flood, he wasted no time on sympathy. “So now we’ve got us a warehouse full of fancy artwork. Did he have any relatives?”

  Deke had no idea, and right now it didn’t matter. They turned their attention to what was left of the ice house, deciding it wasn’t worth saving. “We’ll start all over again,” Deke said. “From what I’ve seen, the saloons will be up and running again in no time, and they’re still going to want ice.”

  For now, only one subject took up most of Deke’s thoughts, and that was Rose. She’d been so worried over Lucy that he kept putting off that talk he planned. Long speeches made him uncomfortable, but he would wait no longer. For better or for worse, he’d talk to her tomorrow.

  * * * *

  The next morning, Deke found Rose alone in the still-closed saloon with a mop in her hand. She was wearing the blue dress he liked. She smiled when she saw him and stopped mopping. “Hello, Deke. What brings you here so early?”

  He peered down at the hem of her dress. “What happened to the bloomers?”

  “Do you miss them?”

  He kept his face straight. “They drove me wild.”

  “Oh, did they now?” She started laughing.

  “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

  She got serious. A kind of knowing look crept into her eyes. “And I’ve been wanting to talk to you, Deke.”

  He took a deep breath. Now was the time for the speech he’d practiced. “It’s about that night that I—”

  “Stop.” She let the mop fall to the floor. “You’re going to tell me you made a mistake that awful night when you thought I was kissing Mason. Well, I know that already, so why should we discuss it?” She stepped closer, reached out, and gently clasped his arms. “Is there anything else?”

  The tenderness of her touch told him all he needed to know. No long speech necessary, thank God. He knew what he was going to say and would have no trouble saying it. “I love you, Rose, and can’t think of living my life without you. Will you marry me?”

  Her lips curved into a delighted smile. “Now that you mention it, I do believe I will.”

  Epilogue

  Sacramento, California, August, 1864

  Rose Fleming stood on the dock, waitin
g for the steamboat that would bring Deke home to her. Six long, lonely months he’d been gone. She’d kept herself busy, easy to do, what with two lively sons to take care of. Lucy had just turned a beautiful, bright fifteen and was no trouble at all. These days, the River Queen didn’t take much of her time. Tim Delahunty was such a competent manager she left almost everything in his hands. She’d been luckier than she deserved when Jake Grunion ran off with a week’s receipts, and Tim took over.

  She heard the blast of a boat whistle and looked down the river. At last! Here came the side-wheeler, Senator, direct from San Francisco. After his long journey from Australia, Deke would be elated to be back.

  Or would he?

  During the years they’d been married, he never complained, and no wonder. The ice house was just the beginning. Every business he touched was successful. The River Queen continued to flourish, even though she’d got rid of the gambling years ago. The third-floor girls were long gone, too. Not long after the flood, Tillie chose to follow her profession at a new hotel and had taken most of the girls with her. The rest stayed as maids, all of them long since married. Now the River Queen was best known for its fabulous French restaurant and priceless Renaissance art collection, although she’d still give it up if ever a relative of Mason’s was found.

  What more could they ask for in life than three healthy children, family, friends, and their beautiful home overlooking the river?

  And yet…

  On the night of their tenth anniversary, she’d caught a wistful gleam in his eye and knew what it was. “You miss Amalie Station, don’t you?”

  He took a long time to answer. “You know how happy I am with you, but sometimes…”

  “You wish you could see it again.”

  His silent nod told her all she needed to know. “Then you should go for a visit. What better time than right now when your business is booming, the children are doing well, and so am I.”

  On the day he left, she smiled and waved as the steamboat pulled away from the dock. He needn’t know the tiny fear that kept gnawing at her. All these years, whenever he talked of Amalie Station, the undercurrent of yearning in his voice revealed how much he longed to return. Now that he’d seen it, did he really want to come home? She loved him completely, but if in his heart he longed to return to Amalie Station, their marriage would never be the same.

  As the Senator glided to the landing, Rose scanned the cheering passengers standing on the deck. Her heart leaped when she saw him, her beloved Deke, looking much the same as when she married him, only with a bit more grey in his hair. He broke into a grin when he saw her. She’d like to think she hadn’t changed much either. No grey in her hair, and she’d kept her figure.

  One of the first down the gangplank, he hugged her tight. “I missed you, Rose. It’s good to be home.”

  Was it? She still wasn’t sure.

  On the way home they caught each other up on all the news. “Ben and Coralee are doing fine,” she said, “and of course, Raymond is Raymond. Gaston and Drucilla just left for another trip to France. This time they took the children along. I’ve never seen Drucilla so happy. And Gaston, too. Such a happy couple. He absolutely adores her and she adores him.”

  “The same with Mitch and Cherry,” he replied. “I paid them a visit while I was there. They’re up to six kids now, and not done yet, I think. Cherry loves Australia. She’s beginning to sound like a native.”

  When Deke brought the carriage to a stop in front of their riverfront home, Rose started to get out, but Deke said, “Wait. I have something to tell you.”

  That he wanted to go back to Australia? She tried to keep the alarm from her voice as she asked, “And what is that?”

  He got that crooked little smile on his face, the one that could still send a tingle through her veins. “You know how much Amalie Station has meant to me, and how much I needed to go back and see it. I’m glad I did, but that’s the end of it. Before I left, I put Amalie Station up for sale.”

  “You mean you don’t ever want to go back?” She held her breath, waiting for his answer.

  “Why should I?” He took her hands in his. “You are my life, Rose. I never want to leave you again. My place is here with you, now and forever.”

  Wagon Train Cinderella

  If you enjoyed River Queen Rose, be sure not to miss Shirley Kennedy’s Women of the West series, including

  1851, Overland Trail to California. As a baby, Callie was left on the doorstep of an isolated farmhouse in Tennessee. The Whitaker family took her in, but have always considered her more a servant than a daughter. Scorned by her two stepsisters, Callie is forced to work long hours and denied an education. But a new world opens to her when the Whitakers join a wagon train to California—guided by rugged trapper, Luke McGraw . . .

  A loner haunted by a painful past, Luke plans to return to the wilderness once his work is done. But he can’t help noticing how poorly Callie is treated—or how unaware she is of her beauty and intelligence. As the two become closer over the long trek west, Callie’s confidence grows. And when disaster strikes, Callie emerges as the strong one—and the woman Luke may find the courage to love at last . . .

  Keep reading for a special look!

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  Chapter 1

  Along the Overland Trail, 1851

  Walking through the woods, Callie Whitaker was drawn to the sound of a waterfall. When a snake slithered across her path, she dropped her bucket and stopped in her tracks. It disappeared into the dense undergrowth. What brought me here? I cannot believe this is happening to me. Only a month ago, she was leading a dull but safe existence in the Tennessee farmhouse where she’d lived her entire life and rarely left. Now here she was in the middle of a wilderness she never knew existed, heading to California, a place she’d never heard of. Bone-tired from the endless work, she was sleeping on the ground under a wagon instead of her tiny bed under the eaves. The farm wasn’t much, but she’d give anything if she could return to Tennessee, where she didn’t have to worry about Indians, snakes, and who-knew-what-would-happen-next?

  A lump formed in her throat. Silly girl, you have no time for feeling sorry for yourself. Darkness was about to fall. She must get to the stream, scoop a bucketful of water, and hurry back to the wagon where everyone expected their supper. She picked up her bucket and trudged on. Through tall trees, the flowing water came into view. Ah, there it was. She drew close. How beautiful. Cascading water falling over moss-covered boulders, gorgeous ferns in every shade of green, clumps of tiny violets growing around the pool beneath and standing in the pool, the water up to his knees… Oh, my stars. She froze in her tracks, backed a few steps away, and peered over the top of a red hawthorn bush. It was a man—tall, lean, sinewy, with long, dark hair—and completely naked. He appeared to be bathing, bending to scoop water into his palms, then bringing it up over his head with a giant splash. The water cascaded over a powerful set of shoulders, down over the rippling muscles of his stomach to his sturdy thighs, to his…

  Why was she gawking like a schoolgirl? Shameful. She’d seen her little stepbrother’s thing many a time. She’d never forget when crazy Grandpa Pearson from the next farm escaped and ran naked down the road. So, of course, she knew what a man looked like, but still…oh, my. Neither her brother’s tiny thing, nor that of Grandpa Pearson’s, all shriveled, looked anything like this…so big, so very, very…

  He looked up. She ought to run before he spied her, but she couldn’t move a muscle. His gaze caught hers and his eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. He’d spied her! Oh, she should run, but her feet refused to move, and her eyes refused to turn away from the fascinating sight before her. Taking his time, he casually looked to the left, then the right, as if he might find some kind of cover, which, of course, he could not. He shrugged, as if admitting defeat. With a mischievous smile, he spread his arms wide and bowed toward her.
“Good afternoon, madam. Taking in the sights?”

  Oh, Lord. His laughter brought her back to her senses. Her cheeks heating, she clutched her pail and started to back away from the hawthorn bush, intent on running off as fast as she could. But wait a minute. Why should she make a fool of herself and bolt and skitter off like a panicky calf? He was the one at fault, the one who should have done his bathing farther upstream. She didn’t back off. Instead, gripping her faded skirt, she held it out and dipped a deep curtsey, boldly returning his grin as she did. Only after she’d risen, forcing herself to take her time, did she turn and head downstream at a dignified pace.

  She hadn’t recognized him. He must be from the large wagon train that had camped close by. In the morning, it would be gone, thank goodness, and she need never lay eyes on him again.

  * * * *

  “Callie!” Hester Whitaker glared at her stepdaughter. “It’s about time you got back. Where were you? Did you expect me to fix supper by myself?”

  “Sorry, ma’am.” Callie stepped to the campfire and set down the heavy pail of water. She didn’t attempt any excuses. Ma wouldn’t listen anyway. Nor would it do any good to point out that never in Callie’s memory had her stepmother fixed supper by herself. “I boiled a mess of beans this morning and baked some bread. It’ll be ready in no time.”

  Lydia, Callie’s older stepsister, tossed her blond curls and pouted. “I’m getting awfully tired of beans.”

  “So am I.” Nellie, her other stepsister, loved to complain.

  “Sorry, girls. We’ll just have to bear it until we reach California.” Ma settled herself on a log next to their wagon and frowned at her stepdaughter. “Did you bake a pie today, or anything?”