Valerie had guessed as much. “Father, please don’t talk anymore.” She adjusted the pillows behind his head, propping him higher.
“I’ve been such a sinner—that’s the term I heard Pastor Elliot use after your mother died and I fell to pieces emotionally.”
“Where were you, Father? When she was sick?”
“Miles away at a meeting. Arnold Ladden was with me. I never knew Marguerite was ill.”
Valerie saw the remorse in his dark eyes.
“After she died, Reverend McCabe advised me to believe in something more than myself.”
“That’s right, Father.” Valerie stroked his thick dark hair. “Jesus Christ is the way, the truth, and the life. Remember how Mama explained her faith to you?”
“I laughed at her.” His eyelids fluttered closed. “But I loved her so much. When she died, she took my heart with her.”
“I know.”
“My life without her has been marred by bad decisions. I’ve hurt you.” His voice broke. “Forgive me, ma fille.”
At first Valerie didn’t know what to do with the apology. She’d wished for candidness between them ever since returning from school, but now it frightened her. She peered into his ashen face.
“I–I forgive you, Father.” Once those words left her lips, the rest flowed. “Think about what Reverend McCabe told you. Think about everything Mama said. Remember how much she loved you. Know that God loves you even more.”
He seemed to rest then.
“God is even here with us right now.”
His breathing slowed.
Lord, where is Dr. Dupont?
The sound of heavy booted footfalls in the tiled hallway seemed the answer to her prayer. But then Benjamin entered the study.
“I thought you were . . .what are you doing here?” She noticed he’d shaved his beard, so the determination on his face was clearly evident.
He stopped short when he saw her there, sitting on the floor behind the desk with her father’s bleeding form stretched out in front of her. His expression softened.
“Adalia told me that your father’s been hurt.” He tossed aside his hat and strode forward, hunkering down when he reached them. The sleeve of his russet frock brushed against her arm. “She also said the doctor is on his way.” He took a quick look at Father’s wounds and grimaced. “What happened?”
“James shot him.”
Sorrow then anger spread across his features. His golden eyes darkened. “The authorities are looking for him. I saw several Confederate soldiers down the block at the Laddens’ home.” He ran his palm along his jaw. “Valerie, I’ve got to get you out of here as soon as possible.”
“Me? Why?”
Her father’s eyes fluttered open and locked on Benjamin.
“Colonel LaPorte has issued a warrant for your father’s arrest. On charges of treason. The Laddens too. And you’re wanted for conspiracy.”
Valerie inhaled sharply. Her hand sailed to her throat.
Questions pooled in Father’s eyes.
Benjamin looked at him and explained. “When I photographed a ship last week, Mr. Fontaine, my camera captured you and Captain DeMere.”
Valerie knew the one. “The photograph I saw last night?”
Benjamin nodded at her. “I didn’t know who that man was until you identified him. But only too late.” His gaze moved to her father again. “I’d already given that print and others to Colonel LaPorte.”
Dread climbed Valerie’s spine.
“I was asked not to discuss my assignment,” Benjamin continued, “while at the same time I had no clue what you and the Laddens were up to.”
She tried to tie the pieces together. “What exactly did they do that was so treasonous?”
“The Laddens and your father supplied Union gunboats.”
“They let my ships pass in return.” Father struggled to breathe again. “All except imports.” It took effort for him to inhale. “I lost a fortune . . . and Arnold Ladden invested in . . . in Fontaine Shipping.”
It made sense now. The debt he owed—the one she and her dowry would cover . . .
Until James decided she wasn’t worth it.
Benjamin shifted, lowering one knee onto the floor. “Mr. Fontaine, as I said, the colonel is charging Valerie with conspiracy. I’ve got to get her out of New Orleans.”
Her father captured her hand. “There’s money in my vault,” he wheezed. “The key is behind the portrait of . . . your mother.” He struggled to inhale. “Take it . . . and go.”
“Take it where? I have no place to run. Don’t you think I would have left already if I had?”
Benjamin reached for her hand. “I have a solution.”
She stared at him.
“You could marry me and escape to Jericho Junction.”
“Jericho Junction?” Valerie felt paralyzed.
“Dearie, the doctor’s here.” Adalia bustled into the study with Dr. Dupont in tow. The nimble, middle-aged man took one glance at Edward Fontaine’s wounds and shook his head but wasted no time.
“Can we get him up onto the desk? I’ll need it as an operating table.” He turned to Adalia. “And I’ll need some boiling water and plenty of linens.”
“Yes, sir.” She hurried off.
Dr. Dupont cleared the desktop with one sweepting gesture. Benjamin gathered up Valerie’s father and lifted him onto its wide surface. He groaned in such agony that the sound brought tears to Valerie’s eyes.
Next Benjamin helped her up from the floor. She saw the large crimson stain where her father had lain on the Oriental rug.
The physician rummaged through his black leather valise. “This operation will take me some time.”
“How much time?” Benjamin asked.
“Hours. I suggest you wait with Miss Fontaine in the parlor.”
Benjamin didn’t reply but took her elbow.
Father moaned in pain.
“I’ll be praying for you, Father.” Valerie gave his hand one last squeeze.
When they reached the parlor, Benjamin placed his hands on her shoulders. “We can’t wait, Valerie. You need to pack up your things quickly. I’ve got to get you out of here.”
“But—”
He moved to the windows and peered outside.
“—what about my father?”
“I’m sure Cousin Max will let you know of his condition. Meanwhile, I’ve got no guarantee that Colonel LaPorte will keep his word and forestall issuing your arrest warrant. Confederate soldiers are just down the block.” Benjamin turned back to her. “If they arrest you, Valerie, you’ll go to prison.”
Fear shook her.
“Granted, Jericho Junction’s nothing fancy. But you’ll be safe there. My family will protect you.”
“Yes, I–I’ll go,” she stammered.
“As for what I said earlier, about marrying me . . . well, Confederates will be on the lookout for Valerie Fontaine. If you travel as Mrs. Benjamin McCabe, you may not be bothered.” A sudden resoluteness glinted in his eyes. “And marrying me will also ensure that Ladden never has claim to you again.”
Were those the only reasons he was proposing—for her protection? What about love? Perhaps he felt obligated. After all, his photograph incriminated her father.
“You’ve cited some very practical reasons for marriage.”
He stepped toward her and took her hands in his. “What do you say?”
She looked down and ran her thumbs across his knuckles. She wished he’d say he loved her. Pledged his heart as well as protection. She lifted her eyes to his, but she couldn’t tell what lay within them.
In any case it seemed her choices were either jail or Benjamin’s pity.
“Valerie, please come with me. I’ve got my wagon out back, so—”
“So it’s a good thing I have my trunk already packed.”
Fifteen
No one looked happy. Neither Emily nor Mrs. Elliot. Neither Pastor Elliot nor Clint. And Benjamin’s expression was in
discernible. Even the flowers in the vase on the corner table were wilted and sad.
Valerie lowered her gaze. No orange blossoms in her bouquet. Mama always said a bride should carry a few orange blossoms. But there wasn’t a single bloom in her hand. And her dress . . . no lace, no frills. Just her regular lilac silk gown.
“Valerie?” Benjamin’s voice pierced her troubled thoughts.
“I do.”
A glimmer of a grin worked on his lips. “Sweetheart, the ‘I dos’ are done.” He guided her around to face him before taking her hands in his. “Time for the vows.”
“Repeat after me,” Pastor Elliot instructed.
Benjamin’s voice was steady as he spoke. “I, Benjamin Daniel, take you, Valerie Charlotte, to be my wedded wife. To have and to hold, from this day forward—”
He sounded like he meant it.
“—for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer—”
Valerie stared into his eyes and read only sincerity in their depths.
“—in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part. And hereto I pledge you my troth.”
Pastor Elliot turned to her. “Valerie, repeat after me.”
She followed the lead, verbally stumbling here and there. But only because she kept glimpsing Robert at the windows. He watched for soldiers who might be on the hunt for her. She felt so frightened she couldn’t think straight. And her father . . . had he survived the surgery?
“Valerie?”
She blinked and looked back at Benjamin. “Yes?” She really ought to pay more attention. This was her wedding, for pity’s sake. At least she was marrying the man she loved.
“Cousin Max says I can kiss my bride.”
“Oh . . . ” Her gaze migrated from his eyes to his mouth, and a blush warmed her cheeks. The next thing she knew she was in his arms being thoroughly kissed.
When Pastor Elliot cleared his throat, Benjamin released her and grinned rather sheepishly. He opened his mouth to say something, but it was Clint’s voice she heard.
“We have to leave if we hope to get the ladies on the steamer.”
The necessary marital documents were quickly signed. Emily and Clint penned their names as witnesses.
Then, like the fugitive she was, Valerie hid in the back of Benjamin’s wagon on the way to the docks. As they rolled along, she heard the tinkling of glass bottles in which his photographic chemicals were stored. A man’s shout caused her to tremble when she imagined Confederate soldiers bore down on them. But soon the voice wafted off into the distance.
The wagon drew to a halt, and Benjamin helped her down and into an awaiting buggy driven by Pastor Elliot. Robert sat beside him.
“I’ll meet you at the dock.” Benjamin clung to her gloved hand. “I’ll get your trunk loaded onto the steamer.”
She didn’t want him to go, but he pulled away before she could utter a word. The carriage jerked forward, and Valerie pulled her hat closer toward her face. Next she hugged her cape more tightly to herself.
Pastor Elliot drove to the riverfront where stern-wheelers and side-wheelers alike were lined up in a row for miles. Several sets of towering smokestacks coughed out black smoke. He pulled on the reins and the horses slowed to a stop.
“I’ll be praying for you.” Pastor Elliot assisted her descent from the buggy. “And I promise to stay with your father. Robert and I will go to him straightway.”
“How very kind of you.” She squeezed his hand with gratitude. “You can’t imagine my relief to hear you say that.”
“It’s my duty and my pleasure.” He gave her hand a fatherly pat. “Godspeed, my dear.”
“Thank you, Pastor Elliot. For everything.” After a hasty good-bye to Robert, Valerie picked her way across the busy thoroughfare. She spotted Emily waving to her in the distance and hurried toward her.
“We’ll wait for the boys here where we’re out of the way.”
Horses trotted by, pulling rattling wooden flatbeds, some loaded high with cotton bales. People milled about, calling to each other. Unsavory-looking characters lurked in the shadows, and Valerie recalled her father’s stories about the dangers associated with the wharf.
She turned her back to the goings-on. Fear numbed her. Would someone recognize her? Take her into custody? She felt so conspicuous. Oh, God, please protect me.
“That’s our boat.” Emily pointed to the white, multidecked steamer with shiny red trim. Her name, Bon St. Marie, was painted scarlet on the side of the wheelhouse, and she bobbed slightly on the water as her passengers embarked. Her crew noisily wooded up in preparation for the journey.
Valerie marveled at her friend’s calm. “Aren’t you nervous? Aren’t you scared?”
Emily put an arm around her. “Yes. I tend to chatter when I’m terrified.”
In spite of herself, Valerie smiled.
“Now, Clint said that we’ll take the steamer as far as Vicksburg. From there we’ll board a stage that will take us to the train . . . oh, here he comes now, and Ben’s with him!”
Valerie peered over her shoulder and watched the men’s approach. Her trepidation ebbed. With Benjamin near she felt decidedly safer.
Clint pulled Emily off to the side, and Benjamin took Valerie’s hands. He wore a tender expression as he stared down into her eyes.
“I’m sorry the way things happened this afternoon.”
He’s sorry he married me?
“We’ll fix them when I get home.”
“Fix them?” A frown weighed on her brow.
“Yes, but for now, I’d like to give you something. As you know, I didn’t have a ring—”
Glancing at her gloved hand, Valerie thought of how Adalia had pressed Mama’s wedding ring into her palm as she made her hasty departure. She closed her eyes. How she would miss Adalia.
“But I do want you to have this.” Benjamin placed his pocket watch in her hand. “My wedding gift to you.”
“Your watch?”
“It was my grandfather’s. My most valued possession. Now I want my wife to have it.”
“I’ll cherish it.” She regarded the gold, engraved face cover glistening on her gloved palm in the setting sun.
“Open it.”
She pressed down on the mechanism to reveal the beautiful gold hands set on mother-of-pearl. On the back of the cover, she found Benjamin’s photograph.
“Take a look at the memento I’ll be carrying on my person.” He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a palm-sized gilt frame. When she peered inside, she saw her picture—and she remembered exactly when he’d taken it. That day at the army campground.
She looked up into his face once more, searching his eyes. Why, if he’d taken the time to print her photograph and frame it, could that possibly mean—?
“But I don’t have a wedding gift for you.”
He tucked the tiny frame away. “We’ll settle up when I get home. How’s that?” He smiled. “Come on.” He led her toward the Bon St. Marie. “Let’s get you safely on board.”
Benjamin handed the clerk her ticket, and he instructed her how to get to her quarters. Valerie did her best to shield her face as she listened. Then Benjamin squeezed her elbow in parting as she lifted her skirts and walked up the plank to the steamboat’s deck. When she looked back, she saw him striding over to where Clint stood. She caught Benjamin’s eye and waved, but then more passengers embarked. Valerie stepped out of their way and headed to the upper deck and her quarters. Under the circumstances, she didn’t think it would be a good idea to stand at the rail and wave farewell.
Entering the room she found it cramped and stuffy. How would she and Emily dress and comb their hair? It was barely enough space for one woman, let alone two. It would prove to be a challenge, but at least their trunks had been delivered.
The steamer began to move, chugging its way up the river. Valerie felt herself relax for the first time in hours. It had been a traumatic day. She wondered how her father fared. The sad realization set
in. Even if he lived, he’d face prison—or worse. She closed her eyes. Oh, Lord, may it be that his soul cries out for You before it’s too late.
Emily walked in. “Well, we’re on our way.” A show of sadness gathered in her eyes. “Will you come down to the main galley with me and have tea? Clint said most of the passengers are women and children. I think it’s safe enough for you.”
“Yes, I’d like that.”
Emily linked arms with her. “I’m going to miss Clint so much.” She rested her head against Valerie’s shoulder for a moment. “But he said he’d meet me in Jericho Junction before our baby’s born.”
Valerie had already figured it would be sometime before July. But, of course, if Benjamin found Luke, it could be sooner.
Arm in arm they made their way to the steamboat’s narrow public cabin, which had been set up with small, round tables and chairs for passengers. Within minutes the waiter took their order and returned with a silver teapot, thick porcelain cups, and saucers.
Valerie took a sip and grimaced. It didn’t taste anything like the fine black teas or herbal mixtures to which she’d been accustomed. She hoped it wasn’t a sign of things to come.
“Catherine Elliot, what are you doing here?”
Valerie brought her gaze up sharply. “Catherine?”
“Hello, ladies.” Attired in plain brown traveling garb, she strode forward. “May I join you?” She pulled out a chair without waiting for a reply.
“What are you doing here?” This time Valerie asked the question.
“Do you think I would allow you to live my dream of traveling west, teaching, and marrying Ben? Hardly.” She folded her skinny frame into one of the wooden armchairs. “I believe it’s God’s will for me to marry Ben.”
“But Ben and Valerie are already married, Catherine,” Emily pointed out.
“He only married her so she wouldn’t go to jail. The marriage isn’t consummated. There’s always annulment.”
Valerie cringed. Catherine had spoken her worst fears.
“That’s enough.” Emily reached across the table and clamped on to Catherine’s wrist. “We’re all Christian women here.” Her voice was barely audible. “A slip of the tongue could put any of us in grave danger—and I’m not just talking about Mrs. McCabe here.”
Unwilling Warrior Page 16
