The River Rose

by Gilbert, Morris

  "Ooh, it's beautiful! Thank you, Mr. Clint. I wish my face wasn't all splotched up. I don't feel like a princess."

  "Don't you worry about that, Marvel. When we get to Memphis I'm going to get you something for those bites, and I know a secret potion to keep mosquitoes away," Clint said, kneeling by her again. "It smells good to people but not to mosquitoes. And it sure looks a lot better than mud. I really am sorry you got all those bites, Marvel. I'm not going to let that happen to you again."

  "Really?" Marvel asked, her eyes shining. "You'd do that for me?"

  "That, and a whole lot more, little girl," he said quietly. "But let's not tell your mother, all right? She's very strict about not letting people buy things for you, but since this is my fault I'm the one that needs to fix it. Okay?"

  "Well, I don't think it was your fault that a hunnerd mosquitoes bit me," Marvel said. "But okay, I won't tell Mama unless she asks me. Then I won't lie."

  "I know, baby. I'll tell her when it's all done. Now, I've got about a hundred flowers out here. How about we go fix some of them to put in your cabin? And Roberty, when you take up Captain Jeanne's tea, we'll send some up with you. It'll make that boring old wheelhouse look nice."

  In two more days they arrived back in Memphis with no more incidents. They had shipped a load of crushed stone out of Little Rock, and as usual the receivers were there to snatch it up as soon as they docked. Clint told Vince, "I've got to go into town real quick. Can you make sure all this gets offloaded? By the time they're finished I figure Jeanne will be down, but just in case, you collect half from Mr. Carruthers, it's his company that's the receiver. He owes us two hundred dollars. You can take a bank draft, he's good for it."

  "Got it," Vince said, and Clint sprinted off the boat.

  Jeanne was in her cabin, washing up, changing clothes, and fixing her hair. She smiled as she looked at the big bucket of flowers by the door. It was odd how cheerful flowers made a room look, she thought.

  Marvel came in. "Hello, Mama. They're unloading the rocks, and it makes a lot of dust and makes me sneeze."

  "I know, darling. You don't need to be down there in the way, anyway." Marvel's mosquito bites were much better, though some of them were still angry red bumps. She sat her dolls in one of the armchairs and went back outside to bring in a pail of water that held the remnants of the honeysuckle vines. "I'm going to make Mrs. Topp and Avaymaria some garlands to wear, and then Avaymaria can be the fairy queen and Mrs. Topp can be the fairy princess."

  "That's nice, dear," Jeanne said absently. She thought that George Masters would probably be very worried since they were a day late. They had planned on having a picnic at Court Square today. It was too late now, but she thought he might want to go out for supper, so she changed into her good pink muslin with the crinoline. It took a long time to get her hair presentable since she hadn't been dressing it on this trip. She tried to hurry, for she was sure George would arrive at any moment. Finally she had tamed it into a neat bun at the back of her head, with long ringlets over her shoulders. She looked out the window at the docks, and didn't see him, so she went down to the main deck. Vince was supervising the roustabouts as they unloaded. "Where's Clint?" she asked him.

  "He went into town. It was urgent," Vince added hastily when he saw the look on Jeanne's face. "He told me about Mr. Carruthers, and the payment, Captain Jeanne. That's all right, isn't it?"

  "Of course, Vince. I guess I'm just surprised he took off so quickly. Um—Mr. Masters hasn't been here, has he?"

  "I haven't seen him, ma'am. You want me to ask one of these fellows about him? Us roustabouts, we know everybody and all of their business, too," Vince said lightly.

  "No, of course not. I'm sure he'll be here," Jeanne answered.

  She went back up to her cabin and played with Marvel and her dolls. Apparently there was trouble in the household, for Mrs. Topp wanted to be the queen and Avaymaria the princess. "Mrs. Topp is older, so she says she should be queen," Marvel said thoughtfully. "I guess that's true." They had started re-weaving their crowns when a knock sounded on the door and Vince called, "Captain Jeanne? Excuse me, but I need to speak to you."

  Jeanne went to the door and motioned Vince to come in, but he shook his head. "No, thank you, ma'am. We're not through unloading but I got a piece of news I thought you'd better know quick. One of the roustabouts told me there's yellow fever in town. He's not sure, but he said the last he'd heard there were about six hundred cases, and one of the fellows says there's a bunch of new graves at Elmwood Cemetery. The City Council and the Board of Health knows about it, but they don't want to quarantine the docks because it's bad for business."

  Jeanne went pale. "Are any of the roustabouts sick? Or have they been around anyone that has it?"

  "My friend I was talking to, he says not. These men that work for us, they're my old buddies I used to work with when I was a roustabout. We can trust them."

  "All right," Jeanne said tightly. "Don't let anyone on the boat that you don't know and trust, Vince. None of you leaves this boat, do you understand? Do you know where Clint went?"

  "No, ma'am. No, really, Captain Jeanne, I don't know. If you want I could go to our—uh—regular places and look for him."

  "No, Vince, I really mean it, no one leaves the boat. And send Roberty up here. He and Marvel need to stay in my cabin until we can get out of here."

  "Yes, ma'am. And Captain? An errand boy from the Gayoso brought you a letter." He handed her an envelope made of thick cream parchment.

  "Thank you," she said slowly. She closed the door and sat down at her desk to open the letter. It was from George.

  Dearest Jeanne,

  I apologize for my absence. I deeply regret that we won't be picnicking when you come in.

  I'm sure you've found out by now that there is a yellow fever epidemic in Memphis. Fortunately, Dr. Augustus Hightower is an old friend of mine, and he's on the Board of Health. He was kind enough to alert me of the first few cases. I've returned to Morecambe, and I plan on staying until the danger is past. I wish I could have brought you and Marvel with me. I advise you to leave the city as soon as possible.

  I'll miss you very much, dearest, and I hope to see you soon. God bless you and keep you, and as always I remain,

  Your obedient servant,

  George Masters

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Madame Chasseur was an acknowledged beauty in Memphis. She was slender and fair, with translucent blue eyes and a pleasing, low soft voice with a charming French accent. Her clients, who were all of the upper-class ladies in Memphis, knew that she was a widow and still grieved for her husband. He had died ten years ago in a duel, defending his wife's honor against a brute that had insulted her. Madame Chasseur had fled New Orleans to hide from this blackguard, and had made a new life for herself in Memphis with the establishment of Madame Chasseur's Cosmetics and Perfumery. Her reputation in Memphis had grown quickly as a gentlewoman of pure ideals, for she never entertained any man's attentions, always maintaining that her love for her husband, even after death, was so strong that she could never think of marrying again.

  It was true that Madame Marie Chasseur, whose real name was Mary Chase, never thought of marriage, either in the past or now. In New Orleans she had not been the type of woman that men married, although they enjoyed her company—and her charms—very much. And now that she had left that behind and was a respectable woman, she had no intention of allowing any man to interfere with this life she had created for herself. It was extremely lucrative, for women were pure fools when it came to spending money to beautify themselves.

  Mary could buy a jar of rose oil, mix it with a little jasmine water, re-bottle it with her name on an ornate label as "Madame Chasseur's Essential Complexion Restorative" and charge ten times what the ingredients cost her with the promise that it would keep wrinkles from appearing at the corners of the eye. It took another, different expensive preparation to keep wrinkles from appearing at the corners of the mouth. It
wasn't that Mary thought her cosmetics were fakes, she just knew that women paid too much for them. She truly believed in her remedies and restoratives, and used them all herself.

  That was why she was extracting essential oil from frankincense and myrrh resins now. The perfume from the oil would keep away the yellow fever miasmas. When she heard of the outbreak, she immediately started advising her ladies to wear veils with the frankincense and myrrh oils dabbed on them if they must go outside their homes. Mary herself used a steam distillator to extract the essence, and she knew that the fragrant steam in the shop would keep the pestilential vapors away.

  The bell on the front door jangled, and Mary went through the curtain from the back room to attend her customer. She stopped with shock when she saw that it was Clint Hardin.

  He grinned at her and said, "Bonjour, Madame Chasseur. Comment allez-vous, cherie?"

  "What are you doing?" she hissed. "We agreed that you would never come here!"

  "Relax, Mary, I'm here because I need a cosmetic or a perfumery," he joked, looking around the shop. It was a small, intimate place. On one side of the room were shelves from floor to ceiling with jars, bottles, tins, and boxes neatly arranged. A long glass-enclosed case containing more jewel-colored bottles and ivory boxes was along the back wall, with four silver mirrors on top. On the other side a sofa, a settee, and two Queen Anne chairs surrounded a small fireplace. Madame Chasseur often served China tea to her clients there as she consulted personally with them. There was no one else in the shop. Clint added, "Looks like you'd welcome a paying customer." He leaned up against the glass counter.

  From behind it she leaned close to him and spoke in a half-whisper as if they could be overheard. "The only time men come in here is when their wives drag them in. What do you want, Clint?"

  "I just know you've got something that smells real sweet, and that will keep mosquitoes from biting you."

  "Yes, I do, and ladies love it," she bit off. "You're telling me that you came to buy some fragrance for another woman?"

  "No, not another woman, a little girl. We got stuck on a sandbar out in the wilderness, and she got eaten alive. I figured you'd know something to do about that."

  She went to the shelves and picked out a small amethyst-colored bottle. "This is lavender and rosemary essence. It repels all insects. It smells so good that many women use it for perfume, too. See?" She uncapped the bottle and held it under Clint's nose.

  He shook his head. "I can't smell anything but whatever that is you've got cooking back there. It smells like an Araby brothel in here. I'll have to take your word for it that that stuff smells good."

  Mary asked evenly, "So, this is for the little girl on your boat? The lady captain's daughter?"

  "Yeah, it seems like she gets the short stick all the time. We haul coal, she sneezes and coughs. We haul crushed stone, she sneezes and coughs. If there were ten thousand mosquitoes where we were, they'd ignore everybody else to try to get to her. Is that the biggest bottle you've got?"

  She pulled it back and replaced the cork. "Do you know I haven't seen you in more than a month? And now you come in here, and all you can think about is some kid that's gotten a mosquito bite?"

  "Has it been over a month?" Clint said with surprise. "I kind of lose track, out on the river. Aw, c'mon, Mary Mary Quite Contrary, you know you don't really care one way or the other. When I'm here, I'm here, and when I'm not I doubt you hardly notice."

  "That's not true," she said stiffly. "I do notice. I notice a lot of things. Like all of the talk about you and Eve Maxfield. She's one of my customers, you know."

  "So is every other woman in Memphis. Anyway, you're not going to try to tell me that Eve has been talking to you about me," Clint said dismissively. "She wouldn't do that, she's got a lot more to lose."

  "No, she doesn't. Because she tops the social ladder, and since she's a widow, she can do anything she wants, and she'll never suffer any consequences. The only thing that happens to her is that people gossip about her. That's how I know about you and her. Letitia Raleigh and Mrs. Dr. Hightower were in the other day, and that's all they talked about. How everyone knows that you're her amour. Her current one, anyway," she added maliciously.

  Clint stared at her in disbelief. "I can't help what people say, Mary. Where's all this coming from? We never talk about other people when we're together. I sure wouldn't question you about your personal business."

  "Because you don't care!" Mary burst out.

  "And since when do you care? I don't think you do, even now. I think that your pride's just hurt because you've got it in your head that you're in some bizarre competition with Eve Maxfield. And that's just nonsense."

  "Why? You are her lover, aren't you?"

  Clint said darkly, "You shouldn't even ask that question. It's none of your business. I would never discuss you with anyone on this earth, and I'm not going to talk about Eve Maxfield, either. Now are you going to sell me this stuff or not?"

  She deflated and answered dully, "All right. It's five dollars."

  Clint knew that was outrageous, but he merely said, "I'll take two bottles, please." He handed her a ten-dollar bill and stuck the bottles in his pocket. "Hope business picks up, Madame. Funny, Main Street seems almost deserted, so it's not just you. I'll see you, Mary."

  He turned to leave and she came from around the counter to pluck at his sleeve. "You just came in, didn't you? So you're going to be here tonight. Why don't you come to me, just after dark?"

  Gently he pulled away from her. "Not tonight, Madame Chasseur, but thank you."

  As he left, she knew that she wouldn't see him again. Again rage seethed in her, rage at Clint, at Eve Maxfield, at her own inability to keep him, even at the little mosquito-bitten girl he cared about so much. She was glad she hadn't told him that there was a yellow fever plague. Maybe he would catch it and die.

  But deep down Mary Chase knew that losing him because he died wouldn't make her feel any better than losing him because he didn't love her . . . as she loved him.

  JEANNE SAW CLINT WALKING up the gangplank, smiling, and she ran to him. "Where have you been?" she demanded.

  "I had a little errand to run. For Marvel," he explained. "Why, what's the matter?"

  "You don't know? There's a yellow fever epidemic. You didn't see any sick people?"

  "No, I didn't know, and I didn't see anyone that was sick. I hardly saw anyone at all on the streets and I guess now I know why," he said thoughtfully.

  "We have to get out of here," Jeanne said, grabbing his arm and hauling him into the boiler room. The roustabouts were still unloading the sacks of rocks, filing back and forth on the gangplanks. "They should have quarantined the docks, but they didn't. There's been no official notice at all. Vince says that word on the docks is that hundreds are sick, and some have already died."

  Clint nodded. "Okay, Jeanne, but it's Sunday. We can't pick up the mail or get loaded today. You do realize that, don't you?"

  Jeanne wrung her hands. "No, I didn't realize that. Are you saying that we'll have to stay here tonight?"

  Clint put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm not saying that at all. It's just that I had yellow fever when I was a kid, and they tell me that once you've had it you're immune. I can stay and explain to the postmaster and to Mr. Baxley that the Helena Rose left because of the fever. So you can leave right now if you need to."

  Jeanne paced up and down for a few moments. "I don't know. I hate to do that, we have commitments. Especially the mail. Who knows how long it would be before they get their mail in Pine Bluff and Little Rock?"

  Vince came in the boiler room and said, "Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to ask you, Captain Jeanne. My men said they'd come back to load us up when the stoves show up. That way we won't have to let anyone that might be exposed onto the boat."

  Clint said, "I saw you've got Duffy and Eddie and the others loading. You talked to them?"

  "Yeah, Duffy told me about the yellow fever. None of the guys or their f
amilies have it. There have been a couple of roustabouts that have caught it, but Duffy says they don't work with them."

  Jeanne looked pleadingly at Clint. "What do you think?"

  "I know the postmaster goes to Calvary Episcopal Church, and I can go find him there and tell him we need that mail now. And Kaufman's warehouse is always open, I can go tell their manager that we want to load up today instead of in the morning," Clint answered matter-of-factly. "I know it's a risk, Jeanne, but that Kaufman contract was hard to get and we need their business. If only two fellows on the docks have gotten sick, then it must not be too bad down here."

  "All right," Jeanne decided. "Let's get it done as fast as we can, because we're leaving as soon as we're loaded. And, Clint, while you're in town stop at Anderton's and get them to send us two barrels of vinegar. I'm scrubbing this boat inside-out and top to bottom as soon as it gets here."

  The vinegar arrived before the mail or the Kaufman stoves, so Jeanne, Ezra, and Vince scrubbed the floor, walls, ceiling, wheel, the windows, and all the fixtures in the pilothouse. Jeanne sent Marvel and Roberty up there as soon as they'd finished. Roberty protested, "I can help, Captain Jeanne! I feel fine."

  "No, Roberty, not this time," she said sternly. "You and Leo keep Marvel company while we clean our cabin, okay? Once we get underway it'll be all right for you two to roam around again."

  They scrubbed Jeanne's cabin, and by that time Clint had come back with the mail, and the carts of stoves were lining up on the docks. Jeanne, Clint, and Vince kept scrubbing everywhere while Ezra supervised the roustabouts. It was almost nine o'clock before the Rose was loaded and ready to go.

  Jeanne hadn't been piloting at night for the simple reason that she didn't know the river by night. It was a completely different world from daytime navigation. And she was utterly exhausted. But she was determined to get out of Memphis, so she told Marvel and Roberty that they could go down to the main deck and she took the wheel. The Helena Rose backed away from the plague city and slipped off into the night.