Boston Jane (20 page)

I wanted to say that I had no use for courage and that the last thing I needed on this filthy frontier was grit, but instead I fell silent. Jehu seemed to sense my discomfort, and he looked away. He scratched absently at the scar on his cheek. My hand itched to touch it.

“What happened to your cheek?” I asked curiously.

Jehu shrugged, a bruised look in his eyes.

“Tell me,” I persisted.

He looked down at his weathered hands. “I was supposed to be a farmer.”

“You grew up on a farm?” Somehow this seemed impossible.

“Outside Boston. But ever since I can remember I’ve wanted to sail.”

I nodded, remembering my girlhood dreams on my four-poster bed in Philadelphia.

“I’d dream of running away, getting off the farm, and becoming a sailor. We used to bring our harvest to the docks in the city, and I’d spend all afternoon watching the ships go in and out of the harbor. Sometimes I’d hang around the taverns and listen to the sailors tell stories.”

“So you got the scar in a tavern brawl?” I thought of all those men on our front steps late at night shouting for my papa.

A fleeting look of pain and regret flashed across his face. “When I was fourteen, I made the mistake of telling my pa what I planned to do. I was the only son and expected to work the farm. Pa got so angry, he just picked up the nearest thing and swung it at me. Horse harness. Sliced me open. I ran away that night, signed on the first ship I could find. The surgeon stitched me up.” He rubbed it, as if acknowledging that the surgeon had done a terrible job.

“I would have sewn it up perfectly. I won first prize for embroidery at Miss Hepplewhite’s Young Ladies Academy,” I said without thinking.

His eyes softened.

The wind shifted subtly, carrying a cool breeze. I was suddenly aware of the darkness pressing down on us. The night was
soft as flannel. And all I wanted to do was pull it tight around us for one long moment and forget everything but Jehu. He sat so close I could feel the warmth radiating from him, smell his warm musky scent, of salt and the sea and something else, something that was only Jehu. I looked at his face, his blue eyes bright as the sea he loved.

“Jane,” he whispered, and then he leaned forward … and kissed me! Me, Jane Peck!

I could hardly believe the wonder of it all. It was sweeter than Mrs. Parker’s pie. It was belly-shaking laughter and heartbreaking sobs and breathless giggle fits all wrapped up in one long heartbeat that went on and on and on.

“Sweet Jane,” he said.

All at once Miss Hepplewhite’s words came back to me, like a splash of cold water:

Beware the Great Mistake
.

“Oh no,” I whispered, and pushed Jehu away. What was I doing? Kissing! And Jehu Scudder of all people! Good heavens! Respectable young ladies didn’t go around kissing men, especially not sailors! What was happening to me? Had my good sense been washed out to sea with Mr. Swan’s canoe?

“Jane?” Jehu asked in a startled voice.

But I was up and running as fast as I could on legs that felt like rubber. I scrambled through bracken and mud and muck. I had to get away, far away, from the terrible mess I’d made. I had ruined everything! Sally Biddle was right after all. Not only was I going to end up a spinster, but I was going to have draggled petticoats for the rest of my days!

“Jane, wait!” Jehu called, but I didn’t listen. I just ran. In spite of the massive bonfire it was inky dark along the rocky point, and I could barely see a step in front of me. All I could think was that I had ruined everything, betrayed William, compromised all I’d struggled for with one kiss.

Beware the Great Mistake
.

“Jane, watch out!”

Watch out for what? I wondered and then it was as if I had been pushed, my feet going out from under me, and I was tumbling, tumbling down a steep slope. I was tumbling through bushes and bracken, and I could hear the roar of the water echoing far below, but I couldn’t stop, my arms didn’t seem to work, and I heard Jehu shouting my name, fear in his voice, but I couldn’t reassure him, I was too busy falling, faster and faster and there were rocks all around me, and dirt filled my mouth, and the rush of pounding waves, and all I could think was,
What bad luck
.

Then everything went black.

I awoke to the smell of fetid breath and something rough and wet licking my nose.

Brandywine.

“Blasted beast,” I whispered weakly, pushing the furry face away. He whined.

My head was pounding, my mouth felt like wool, and my stomach was rumbling in a most distressing way.

“Aaah, you’re awake. Thank the maker.”

The room was horribly bright. I squinted but had trouble focusing on the figure, though I recognized the voice.

“Mr. Swan?”

“Yes, my dear.”

I tried to sit up, but a pair of firm hands gently pushed me back. It was Suis. She smiled at me.

Mr. Swan came into view with Father Joseph peering anxiously over his shoulder. I could see Handsome Jim’s worried brown eyes just beyond Father Joseph.

“Boston Jane, you awake?” Handsome Jim said.

“What happened?” I croaked.

Mr. Swan pushed his spectacles up his nose. “You’ve been out for almost two days. You took a capital tumble, my dear girl. Got a knot the size of an egg on your forehead. Suis used some of her poultice to fix you up. And the good Father has kept a vigil, encouraging all of us to pray for your recovery.”

I gingerly reached up to touch my forehead and winced. It was swathed in bandages. Suis swatted my hand away.

“A tumble?”

Mr. Russell shouldered his way into the room. “Right over a cliff, ya useless gal!” he bellowed. His voice was as loud as a rifle, and my poor head ached at the sound.

“I feel terrible.”

“Ya look terrible. What were ya thinking? Wandering around in the dark like that?” Mr. Russell scolded. “Ya scared us half to death. Poor Jehu is beside himself.”

Jehu
.

A moment later Jehu was at my side, and we were alone. For some unaccountable reason my heart thumped faster.

“Jane,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

I closed my eyes, remembering the smell of him, so close.

Beware the Great Mistake
.

Jehu took my hand and wrapped it inside his own. He stared at me with those blue eyes of his and for a moment I was almost lost, but then I remembered myself. And William.

“It was a mistake,” I whispered, pulling away.

“Then it was the best mistake I ever made.”

I shook my head, shaking away the memory of that kiss. I thought of Sally Biddle and Miss Hepplewhite and William, and stiffened my resolve. I had worked hard to become who I was, and I wasn’t about to toss all that away because of one starry night. Because of a sailor with bright blue eyes.

He stared at me, a stony expression on his face.

“I’m already spoken for,” I said. “I gave my word.”

“To a man who couldn’t be bothered to meet you,” he countered sharply.

The truth of it infuriated me.

“You simply don’t understand,” I said between clenched teeth.

“I understand well enough, Miss Peck,” he said bitterly. “I understand that you’d prefer some fool who has the good manners to abandon you on the frontier over someone like me. A scarred sailor.”

“That’s not it at all. It’s just not proper—”

“The devil take proper!” Jehu shouted.

He turned and stomped to the door.

“You make your own luck out here, Miss Peck,” Jehu said, and he was gone.

Another week went by
, and it was time to harvest the oysters.

The
Hetty
had arrived right on schedule and was anchored in the bay, waiting for her precious cargo. I was sufficiently recovered from my tumble to take part in the activities, but the bruise on my forehead lingered, reminding me of Jehu Scudder. Jehu had not spoken to me since he visited me at Mr. Russell’s.

We set out at dawn for the oyster beds. The sun shone brightly, warming our shoulders, and the bay was calm and smooth with hardly a ripple. It was low tide, and as Mr. Swan had predicted, hundreds of crusty-looking oysters were clearly visible below the water line.

“Look at them all,” I said, amazed.

Mr. Swan had engaged Handsome Jim and several other Indians to assist us in the harvest. We used our hands and tongs and sturdy baskets to gather the oysters. When the baskets were full, they were emptied into the canoe. Halfway through the day,
I stopped to rest. I looked out at the water and marveled at the sight. Across the bay, the pioneers of the settlement and the Indians of Toke’s village worked side by side gathering oysters into baskets. Mr. Swan was watching me.

“This is the best hope for the territory,” he said.

“Well, I suppose the oysters ought to bring in some money.”

“No,” he said, waving at the canoes stretched across the water. “Indians and pioneers toiling together peacefully. This is the true bounty.”

Mr. Swan had many peculiar notions. But it seemed to me that he might be correct in this instance.

By the time the horizon started to turn a kaleidoscope of red, our canoe was overflowing with oysters. I felt a rush of pride at the sight of all our hard work. I, Jane Peck, had helped in a real oyster harvest!

“A good day, my dear,” Mr. Swan said cheerfully.

We paddled our precious cargo to where the
Hetty
was anchored, and I was startled to hear Jehu’s voice ring out. I looked up and saw him striding back and forth, getting all the pioneers’ oysters stowed away and ordering the men about so that they could leave in good time.

“Mr. Swan, what is Jehu doing up there?”

Mr. Swan gave me a considering look. “He’s been hired on to captain the
Hetty
back to San Francisco. Their captain died on the journey here.”

“But what about the
Lady Luck
?”

“Captain Johnson is taking the
Lady
over to San Francisco to sell the timber he’s cleared from his claim.”

So Jehu was leaving. I felt so many different things. It seemed cruel to allow him to think that I had any choice in the matter. I had made my choice long ago, and there was no changing it now. William was my betrothed. And Jehu wasn’t. It was really quite simple.

I had to make him understand that it had nothing to do with him. I knew I couldn’t let him leave without saying something. What I would say, however, was a mystery.

“Jehu?” I called from the canoe, but he just ignored me.

“Swan, get your oysters up here or we’ll leave without you,” he called. “We’re making the tide.”

“Mr. Swan,” I said. “I would like to speak to Jehu. Can you help me up to the deck?”

Mr. Swan looked at me, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “Of course, my dear.”

Once on board, my courage fled, and all I could remember was a black starry night and blue eyes shining down at me. I shook myself. I had to speak to him. I steadied my resolve and walked decisively up to Jehu and then halted a step behind his turned back.

“Jehu,” I said nervously.

Jehu whirled around, and his face darkened at the sight of me.

“That’s Captain Scudder to you,” he said coldly. The scar on his cheek twitched.

“Jehu, please,” I begged, remembering that night, that kiss. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m captaining this boat back to San Francisco and then I’m signing on to the next ship headed as far away as I can get, maybe even China.”

I held up my hands to stop his rush of words.

“You must realize I was overwrought, and tired. I was not myself. I never meant to kiss you!”

“But you did, Jane,” he said in a steady voice. “You did.”

And oh, how I wanted to kiss him again.

“Don’t you see? I am spoken for,” I said, frustrated and torn.
“I have no choice.”

“You do have a choice!” he shot back.

“I cannot break my word,” I said softly.

Jehu rubbed a hand through his hair.

One of the crew shouted, “We’re all fitted up, Captain!”

I placed my hand on Jehu’s arm and felt it tense beneath my touch.

“Please—”

He cut me off. “Unless you fancy a trip to San Francisco you best get off this boat.”

“When shall you return?”

“What does it matter to you, Miss Peck?” he challenged, his eyes clouding over. And with that, he turned and strode across the deck.

Back on the beach, I watched the
Hetty
sail across the smooth bay. She disappeared with the setting sun.

And Jehu Scudder with her.

Everybody, it seemed, was leaving.

I watched in dismay as Mr. Swan packed a small bag. He had just informed me that he and Mr. Russell and Chief Toke were
going to Astoria, a large trading post on the other side of the Columbia River, in Oregon. While I was not displeased to see Mr. Russell leave, I was less happy about Mr. Swan’s departure. Most of the assorted men had cleared out since the oyster harvest, and I would be all alone in the encampment.

“Mr. Russell needs supplies and Toke and I have some business to attend to,” Mr. Swan said reasonably.

“But who will protect me?”

“Father Joseph will be just down the stream at his chapel.”

That was hardly reassuring.

“But why can’t I go with you?” I asked desperately.

“You may come with us, of course, but what if William returns when we are gone? He is due any day now, I believe.”

William
.

Of course, he was right. I couldn’t leave.

“Why don’t you ask Handsome Jim to stay with you?” Mr. Swan suggested.

“How long will you be gone?” I asked, twisting my hands.

“Two weeks, maybe a little longer.”

“Yar in charge, gal,” Mr. Russell said with a warning glance. He scratched his head, and I swear I saw a flea jump. “Don’t be giving away anything on credit now, ya hear?”

There was no help for it. I gave in to my fate.

“Well, Mr. Swan, seeing as you’ll be in civilization, could you purchase me some fabric? And some thread and a new pair of shoes?”