Liberty Hill (Western Tide Series) (51 page)

With Adele clutching his arm, Lucius trudged through the crowd, squeezing as close to the docks as possible. Conscious of the many careless elbows and shoulders about, Adele placed one hand in front of her face, so as not to receive another blow like the one that had given her a nosebleed aboard the
Steam Rose
.

As they neared the front of the violently undulating mob, the din increased so much that they could not discern one man’s voice from another’s. There was only a massive roar, which was suddenly sliced in half by three shots of a skyward-facing gun.

All eyes turned towards the gun, which was held aloft in the clutches of a man. He stood aboard a ferry that had purposefully drifted away from the docks, maintaining a small distance from the unruly crowd. Armed men had spread out along the docks nearby, wielding their weapons menacingly.

“Your attention, please!” the man in the boat exclaimed. It seemed this was not the first time he had cried these words, as his face was bloated from the exertion, and his voice was threatening to crack.

The gunfire had the desired effect, as the mob quieted considerably. Relieved by the silence, the man took a moment to pull a handkerchief from his pocket and dab at his brow, which had already begun to sweat in the harsh sunlight of early morning.

“You have all gathered here with the hopes of gaining passage to San Francisco. Lucky for a small group of you,” he pointed out to sea, “that ship is sailing for California.”

There was a cacophony of applause and shouting, and the noise did not die until the gun was fired once more.

With the smoke of it absconding above him, the announcer continued.

“As there are thousands of you, we may only transport a fraction of your number. Two hundred and sixty souls may board the
Galloway
, but there are conditions as to whom of you that may be. First, we shall only accept those who purchased through transportation to California with the Panama Star Line, to whom the
Galloway
belongs, at the beginning of your journey. If there are less than two hundred and sixty through-transients, we shall hold a lottery, and those whose names are chosen shall be allowed to purchase passage. Those of you with through passage, please see me with your ticket ready for examination.”

The man motioned to the ferry’s boatswain to return him to the docks, but in that moment a transient jumped into the water and began to swim towards the distant ship. The orator called for him to stop,
insisted
that he stop, but the man paid no attention. The announcer nodded to one of the armed men, who pointed the nose of his gun and fired. The splashing of the desperate man grew still, his blood spreading like scarlet ribbons in the turquoise water. 

Adele Whitfield screamed and turned her face away.

When the announcer disembarked, he was greeted by a man in a suit. The two conferred while the crowd looked on, too unnerved to make any more noise or movements. When the two men were finished, the one with the suit raised a paper in the air and climbed onto a crate, declaring that those who wished to enter the lottery must submit their names to him.

The crowd began to stir once again. Some produced their tickets and approached the first announcer while others went to enter their names in the lottery. A handful of men held their tickets above their heads and shouted, “no through passage? Don’t wanna take a chance with the lottery? We’ve got tickets for you!” They were swindlers who had increased the price of fare so much that only the richest could pay, and it was not long before they grew silent, because the rich
did
pay.

Lucius fumbled in his pockets to find his papers, his heart beating rapidly. The truth was he had no idea whether or not he and Evelyn had through passage to California, as he had hired someone else to make all the arrangements. Until this moment he had just assumed their tickets were good all the way to San Francisco.

Details had never been Lucius’ strong point.

As he thumbed through bank notes, personal notes, and general rubbish, Lucius prayed that the God who spared his life from Brock Donnigan might be the same God to get him on the
Galloway
.

“Please God please God please God,” he mumbled. “Aha!”

He pulled his and Evelyn’s tickets free of a crumpled mess. Anxiously scanning the surface, he discovered the words he had most ardently wished to see.

Panama Star Line.

Through passage.

He kissed the words and jubilantly spun around to face Adele, who was already staring back at him, her skin ashen.

  He knew, the instant he saw her eyes, that the dead man in the water was not the only thing bothering her.

“We paid our way to Chagres,” she said. “The agent said it was the quickest way to get to California.”

Lucius scrunched up his face in confusion.

“To Chagres?”

“Other ships were said to pass through Panama. We were told we had a greater chance of securing one more quickly if we purchased our tickets as the opportunity arose, rather than being promised to a particular line.”

Lucius stared at her disbelievingly.

“You don’t have through passage,” he said aloud, more for his own ears than for hers.

Adele slowly shook her head.

“Mr. Davies has inquired of the ticket vendors every day,” she continued. “We have all been waiting for that opportunity. It has not come, Mr. Flynn.”

 Once more, Lucius looked down at his tickets. The words blurred together, suddenly meaningless. Suddenly hopeless.

“I know what you are thinking, Mr. Flynn.” Adele’s voice was slightly tremulous. “But I won’t allow it. Not for one second.”

Lucius shook his head in dismay.

“No,” was all he could think to say.

He could not leave them. He could not take Evelyn to San Francisco and leave them behind. It was unethical. He had promised them his protection.

“Your wife is your priority, Mr. Flynn,” Adele insisted. “After everything that has happened, you have a responsibility to take her away from this place. She is sick and devastated, and God only knows how long it will take for her to recover. I will not allow my family to sabotage her well-being, nor yours. God is delivering you. You must not hesitate to accept his good will.”

“And why should God deliver us and not you? I cannot leave you here alone.”

“Mr. Davies will watch over us. We will be all right.”

Oh, God. Samuel Davies would be left behind as well. The
Galloway
was to be yet one more ship he would be forced to watch as it sailed away without him. There might be a lottery, yes, but there was no telling whose names would be chosen. There were three thousand men waiting to go to California, and only a handful of them would make it onto that ship.

Adele looked once more towards the docks, where men had gathered around the announcer, waving their tickets in the air. She started at the sight and reached out to grab Lucius’ arm.

“Now you must go, Mr. Flynn,” she said. “You must not delay! You have to show that man your tickets to secure your passage!”

Lucius hesitated.

“GO!” Adele cried.

* * *

Evelyn Brennan winced. She lay stiff in her tent, trying not to move lest her head pound harder. With every beat of her heart she felt a stab of pain behind her eyes.

With consciousness came an onslaught of pain and discomfort. Her stomach was sick, and she narrowly opened her eyes to see a tin pot resting beside her. She had neither the strength nor the desire to see what was inside. She could just as well guess.

She had been dreaming- she could not remember what- when the sudden boom of the cannons worked its way into her sleep and woke her up with a shock. At once she thought it was a storm, but as she lay listening, there were no other rolls of thunder. She thought it odd, but not odd enough to get her out of bed. She felt miserable, and she wanted to lay there forever. Oh, how she took her good health for granted when she was feeling fine! Now it seemed as though she had never felt well in her life. She wondered when this sickness would pass, if ever. Every moment seemed to stretch into eternity.

Evelyn groaned.

When had she fallen ill? She tried to think back to yesterday. It had been hot, so dreadfully hot. And she had been restless.

She remembered her exertion of independence, remembered wandering into the Buck’n Burro in search of food and solitude…

And then, the following events came rushing into her memory like a strong wind, swirling over her in a confusing myriad of color and clamor and emotion. It brought with it a powerful wave of nausea, and Evelyn pitched to her side to grab the tin pot. She heaved painfully, and when the wave had passed, she lay back down and felt burning tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. They had watered from the vomit, and now they overflowed from sadness and shame.

She had allowed herself to be deceived, abused, and nearly sold. Sold! Like a prostitute! She had not understood what was happening at the time, but as she looked back it was all too clear. The absinthe was meant to make her acquiescent, the clothing was meant to make her desirable, and the auction was meant to make Mr. Dupont rich.

 It was all her fault. She had foolishly denied caution and willingly sauntered across the threshold of reason.

Would she be here, safe in her tent, if Lucius had not come for her?

She felt her cheeks flush.

She had pushed him away, yet still he was there. He had not,
would
not abandon her. In her moment of greatest need, he had stood up against Brock Donnigan, against Mr. Dupont, against the whole of American camp and fought for
her
.

She could still hear his voice in her head.

She’s my wife
.

It had been a declaration. He was not ashamed, and in that moment, neither was she. She had never been so happy to see Lucius Flynn in all her life. When she needed him most, he did not leave her disappointed. There was the boy she had once known, the boy she had once loved, the boy she had once trusted. He had never left, had never abandoned her as she once believed. He had only gotten lost. Had she not forgiven his waywardness upon Liberty Hill? Had they not renewed their friendship then, however small and fragile it may have been? Heaven knew Lucius had tried to foster it, to make it grow, but Evelyn had done her best to stop him. She realized now how foolish and cold she had been. Lucius was in danger of becoming a good man, and despite her great struggle for independence, Evelyn was in danger of loving him for it.

She remembered very little after the moment their eyes met from the stage. She only knew that her transcendent relief had given way to oblivion, and now, here she was.

But where was Lucius?

The desire to see him was enough to motivate her to rise. There was so much she wanted to know: Why had he come for her? How had he known where she was? What had happened after she lost consciousness? And how had Lucius, a single man, rescued Evelyn from Brock Donnigan, the Duponts, and an entire room full of men who were willing to pay dearly for the corruption of her innocent body?

As Evelyn fumbled around for some decent clothes, Josephine poked her fair head through the entrance of the tent. She had heard Evelyn moving about; for the first time since Lucius had carried her unconscious from the Buck’n Burro, and was eager to see how she fared. 

Despite her feebleness, when Evelyn saw the girl she reached out and pulled her into an embrace. Josephine smiled broadly and held her tight. It was good to see Evelyn awake, though she looked frightful, with blanched skin and pale lips. She had dark circles beneath her eyes and her hair was a disaster, hanging in thick tangles over her shoulders and plastered against her forehead, which was damp with sweat. Josephine’s heart burned with pity.

Suddenly, a gunshot cracked through the air outside, startling them.

“Dear God,” Evelyn said, as she released Josephine and pressed two fingers to her throbbing temple. “What is it with these men and their guns?”

Josephine shook her head solemnly, the duel between Lucius and Brock Donnigan still fresh in her mind. She did not know what was happening down at the docks, but she was not certain she wanted to.

She thought of Lucius and Adele, who were there now, and offered up a prayer for their safety.

She produced a canteen of water and presented it to Evelyn to drink. Evelyn’s stomach churned at the thought of consuming anything, but she received the bottle and took a couple of small sips. This seemed to please Josephine, who placed a hand on Evelyn’s shoulder encouragingly.

“I feel awful,” Evelyn told her, though she figured Josephine could see that for herself. “Would you help me dress?”

Josephine looked hesitant. Evelyn needed rest, but since the cannons announced the coming of a new ship, there was no telling how much longer they would even be here. It was probably best that Evelyn be prepared to venture into public at the slightest notice. 

Josephine helped Evelyn into a light Panamanian dress, as the day had grown hot early. She combed the tangles from her hair and began to pull it into a single knot when Evelyn stopped her. Evelyn wanted to leave it down for the breeze to catch when she ventured outside, just as she had done when she was a girl.

“I want to step out into the fresh air,” Evelyn said. “Will you help me, Josephine?”

It was stagnant and sweltering inside the tent, and Josephine thought some fresh air would do Evelyn well. She took Evelyn’s hand and helped her to her feet and into the sunlight. Evelyn’s body ached, and every movement was painful. The brightness of the day hurt her head, and she crossed her arms over her belly to ward off another fit of nausea.

Once she had her bearings, she glanced around camp. She saw Samuel seated beneath the palm tree, his back to them as he gazed out to sea, but the others were nowhere to be seen.

“Where are Mr. Flynn and Mrs. Whitfield?” Evelyn asked.

Josephine pointed to the horizon, and as Evelyn’s eyes followed, she gasped at the sight of the
Galloway
.