Love Inspired Historical November 2014 (30 page)

“It's kind of you to teach the boy,” Clay murmured in the quiet that followed.

“Not at all,” Allie assured him. “He's quite sharp. It's a privilege to show him the wonders he can find in books.”

“And what wonders can we be showing you this fine evening?” Maddie asked Clay.

He regarded Allie a moment longer, as if she'd done something quite unusual. Then he turned to Maddie. “It's the dark of the moon tonight, and a fine set of stars. The sea's a little choppy, but I thought perhaps Captain Howard would like to see the sky.”

Why was Allie disappointed he'd come for her daughter and not for her?

“Strolling the deck after dark with a handsome fellow,” Maddie said with a grin. “How could we refuse?”

Clay's mouth hitched up in a grin. A few minutes later they all climbed the stairs to the upper deck.

The
Continental
had been sailing to the southeast, leaving America far behind. Allie knew their first stop was to be Rio de Janeiro in Brazil, so she guessed they would be at the equator in a few days. Even at sea the air had warmed so that no cloaks were necessary. Clay had traded his bulky coat for a navy jacket cinched at his waist and trousers tucked into his knee-high boots. The breeze from the water, thick with salt, brushed her cheek as she and Maddie settled on the wooden chairs along the deck and spread their skirts.

Clay stood beside them, back to the wall of the building, hand braced against the movement of the sea. Gillian leaned against his knee. The light from the bow outlined him in gold.

“See there?” he said, pointing just ahead of the ship with his free hand. “That's the Southern Cross. Sailors use it to tell where they're going.”

In the glow of the stars, Gillian's eyes were wide. “Really?”

“I promise,” Clay said. He nodded toward the west. “And that's what we call Orion. The ancient Greeks thought the stars made a picture of a mighty hunter, but the Indians in the Dakotas think they outline a bison.”

“What's a bison?” Gillian asked.

Even in the dim light, Allie could see Clay's brows go up.

“You mean, your mother never taught you about bison?” he teased. “What's a fine Boston education coming to these days?”

Allie shook her head at his silliness, but Gillian straightened. “Mothers don't teach. That's what governesses do.”

Allie's cheeks felt hot. Would he realize how little influence she'd had on her daughter until recently?

Clay merely chuckled. “And what Boston governess would know about bison? They're a big brown shaggy cow with a massive head and a humped back, Captain Howard. If you look close, you can see his tail, just there.”

Gillian hurried to the bulwark as if to get closer. Away from the bow light, she was merely a shadow against the wall of the ship.

“So is that where you settled? Dakota?” Allie asked, trying to keep an eye on her daughter.

“I passed through,” Clay replied, leaning against the wall beside her. “The Dakotas, Texas, the California goldfields. It took a while for me to find where I belonged.”

Oh, Father, I know how he feels!
Allie had to take a breath to still the emotions that rose at his words.

Maddie must have sensed her trembling, for she spoke up. “And where would that be, then, Mr. Howard?”

“Seattle, Ms. O'Rourke,” he answered. “I've lived there for the past two years.”

At last he admitted what she'd been suspecting. How odd that he'd chosen the very town she had determined to make her and Gillian's home. Even though she crossed the continent to avoid her late husband's family, she'd still have a Howard living near her. For some reason, that fact did not seem so terrible as it would have even a few days ago.

“And what do you do in Seattle?” Allie asked.

He shrugged. “This and that. I was one of the few who arrived with a stake, so people came to me when they had an idea that needed funding. I helped them build their businesses. I'm more than a little surprised to find that I now own pieces of a number of enterprises in Seattle. It's a far cry from what I would have done in Boston, but I have the privilege of working with people who respect me for my insights, not pander to me because of what I'm named. When Seattle grows, I'll grow with her.”

She could hear the pride in his voice, the longing for a place she had yet to see. Maddie elbowed her in the side.

“Well, then, you'll have no trouble paying me for the doing of your laundry, will you?”

Clay chuckled again, a warm sound that raised gooseflesh on her arms. “Unless half of Seattle falls into the sound before I return, Ms. O'Rourke, I should be able to lay my hands on the money.”

“So you settled in Seattle,” Allie marveled. “And by the sound of it, you like it. Why were you so set against us going there?”

Clay opened his mouth to respond, and a shout sounded from the bow.

“Man overboard!”

He jerked toward the call, but Allie's heart jumped in her chest. She thrust herself from the chair to clutch his arm and keep him at her side.

“Where's Gillian?”

Chapter Seven

F
eet pounded from every direction, nearly as loud as Clay's heart. As if greedy to grab another victim, a wave crested the bow, spilling water down the deck. He seized Allegra by the arms and set her back against the wall of the upper salon.

“Stay here,” he ordered. “I'll find her.”

Immediately she pushed off the wall, chin up. “No! I'm coming with you.”

“We'll both come,” Ms. O'Rourke insisted, voice equally determined as she gathered her skirts and climbed to her feet.

He had no time to argue. He grabbed Allegra's hand and tugged her after him while her friend scurried to keep up.

“Gillian!” he shouted, feeling as if the freshening breeze snatched the word from the air.

“Gillian!” Allegra cried, voice piercing the night.

Ms. O'Rourke added her cry to theirs.

Ahead of them, Clay could see that the sailors were focused on a point to starboard. He managed to catch the arm of a passing officer, pulling them all up short.

“Who is it?” Clay asked. He was almost afraid to hear the answer. Allegra's fevered grip on his arm told him she was as fearful.

Please, Father, help me protect that sweet little girl!

“One of the crew, sir,” the officer replied, and Clay felt guilty for the relief that shook him. “The sea is rising. Best you and the ladies get inside.”

“My daughter is missing,” Allegra told him, voice calmer than her demeanor.

He tipped his cap. “Then find her quickly, Mrs. Howard. We'll have our hands full rescuing Mitchells.” He dashed off.

Allegra turned to Clay, her face as pale as the moon. “Now what?”

Now he could take a deep breath. “We'll search the deck,” he said. “She couldn't have gone far.”

“I'll take the port side,” Maddie offered. “Sometimes she likes to sit under the longboat there.” She hurried off about the bow, skirting the crew who were gathering.

“How could she have wandered off?” Allegra fretted. “I didn't take my eyes away from her for more than a minute!”

The panic was rising in her voice, and Clay felt a similar fear rising inside him.

“We'll find her,” he promised Allegra. “Call her again.”

“Gillian! Gillian!”

The sob in her voice cut through him. Here he'd put himself aboard to protect them, and what good had it done? What kind of man let a little girl fall into the sea while he chatted with her mother like a lovesick swain?

Then he heard it, no more than a whisper blown on the wind. “Mother!”

Clay honed in on the cry. A darker shadow huddled by the railing. Before he could move closer, a wave crested the bulwark, sloshing across the deck, and he nearly slipped. Allegra clung to him as much to help him as to keep her own feet. Head down, he towed her toward the railing.

Gillian raised her hands, face shining from the water streaming down it. Allegra scooped her up and held her close, and Clay led them both back to the companionway to the lower salon, shutting the door on the wind and waves. He leaned against the barrier, feeling as if some part of him had dived into the sea and only now was coming up for air.

Father, show me how to keep her safe in the future!

In the light of the lantern that was kept burning all night in the lower salon, he could see that Allegra's color was returning. She bent and kissed her daughter's forehead. Then she held her at arm's length as if to be certain she was unharmed. “Gillian, what happened?”

“I—I—I only went a li-li-little way,” the girl said through chattering teeth. “I wanted to see the bison.”

Allegra hugged her closer again. Water dripped to the floor around them.

Clay pulled off his jacket and knelt to wrap it around Gillian. “Come along, Captain Howard,” he said, lifting her up as Allegra stood. “Let's get you back to your room so your mother can change you out of these wet things. The other officers can take care of your ship for now.”

Allegra raised her arms. “Let me see to Gillian. Perhaps you'd be so good as to locate Ms. O'Rourke. I'm sure she's worried, too.”

He handed over her shivering daughter with a nod. Her eyes met his over Gillian's head. Allegra wanted to say more. He could see it in those deep blue eyes. What was going through her mind?

“Thank you,” she said, and her smile warmed him more than any jacket.

Clay found her friend easily and returned with her just long enough to take back his jacket. Then he spent the next half hour with the crew, trying to locate the lost sailor in the waves, throwing out ropes and the cork rings of life preservers only to reel them in, empty. Reynolds, Conant and several of the other men helped, as well.

Each toss made him feel as empty as the rings.
I nearly failed You tonight, Father. I already failed my family by setting out on my own. But I had to go. You know what I would have become if I'd stayed.

But though he offered prayers for the lost man, as well, Mitchells was never found.

“Goes to show that life aboard ship can be more dangerous than these ladies want to believe,” Reynolds told Clay as they headed back inside, chilled and dripping. “They have no idea what they've let themselves in for.”

Clay had the same concern. Wasn't that why he'd boarded the ship to begin with? Yet what more could he do? At the moment, all he wanted was a cup of hot water from the galley.

But when he and Reynolds entered the lower salon, they found far more waiting.

“Come along, gents,” Ms. O'Rourke called, motioning them to the head of the table where warm blankets lay ready. Steaming cups of tea rested on the scarred wood along with cold biscuits. Clay dropped into a seat, grateful even for the food of the
Continental
. Someone draped a blanket about his shoulders. He looked up to thank his benefactor only to find Allegra bending beside him. Her eyes were downcast, her mouth pressed tight.

“I know I told you I didn't need your help,” she murmured. “But I'm very thankful you helped us tonight. We could have lost her.”

She rested a hand on his shoulder, and he covered her hand with his. “We didn't.”

She glanced up, and he followed her gaze to where Gillian sat in the door of their stateroom, watching the tableau with solemn eyes. She was draped in a blanket, as well, her round cheeks pink.

“And we must thank you, Mrs. Howard,” said Reynolds, who must have overhead Allegra and Clay's exchange. He took the seat beside Clay and reached for a biscuit. “You and Ms. O'Rourke went to some trouble.”

Maddie flashed him a grin. “I'd like to take the credit, so I would, but all I did was solicit blankets. Mrs. Howard organized us, convinced the cook to share and worked it all out.”

Allegra straightened, leaving Clay cooler. “It was no trouble. Ms. O'Rourke and I managed the lower salon, and Ms. Stanway is arranging tea for the officers in the upper salon. We take care of our own, sirs.”

She made it sound as if they were family. He knew how thin the connection had grown. He had a chance to strengthen that bond on this trip, if she'd let him. He could only hope that tonight was a good start.

* * *

Allie believed what she'd said, that they took care of their own. She'd always wanted sisters, and now she felt as if she, Maddie and Catherine were becoming more of a family than the Howards had ever been. They all mourned the loss of the sailor, but as the first week passed aboard ship, life settled into a welcome routine.

The gong sounded at seven each morning, summoning them to a breakfast of biscuits and tea. One of the women organized a school in one of the longboats, and ten boys and girls sat on the little seats under the tarp to continue their studies. Gillian wanted to join them, but Allie held her back.

Her daughter already knew how to read, even at four, and Allie thought Gillian's greater need was time to have fun rather than undertaking more studious pursuits. Of course, the other pursuits aboard ship were largely as confining.

She and Gillian could join the women passengers in sewing and darning and chatting in the salons or on the deck chairs, sharing stories about their past, their hopes for the future. Mr. Conant could always be counted upon to read aloud in his clear tenor voice while they worked. She could visit the passengers who were still a little under the weather, read her Bible or do her chores. She could snuggle in the corner of the bench and reread
Pride and Prejudice
.

But Allie didn't want to see her daughter so confined, not after the strict discipline Gillian had endured in Boston. So she set out to teach her daughter how to play. She started with Scotch-hoppers.

“Pretend each of these planks is a square,” she told Gillian one sunny day as they stood on an empty space of deck near the bow. Maddie was perched on a chest of ropes nearby, leaning against the bulwark, brown skirts spread around her, hand shading her eyes from the sparkle of the waves.

Allie tossed one of the brass washers she'd requested from the purser onto the first plank while Gillian watched with her usual frown. “You toss your marker at a square, then hop in a pattern like this.”

Allie grabbed a handful of petticoats and hopped up the planks. She could feel her gray wool skirts with their black silk fringe bouncing with each step. When she reached the top plank, she turned and hopped back. “Like that.”

“Why?” Gillian asked.

Though it was becoming her daughter's favorite word, the question took Allie by surprise. “It's a game, Gillian. It's fun.”

Gillian's frown grew. “Why?”

Allie blew out a breath and glanced at Maddie in exasperation.

Her friend lowered her hand. “You're more serious than a vicar, Gillian, me love.”

“What's a vicar?” Gillian asked.

“A very wise man who studies the ways of God,” Clay said, ducking under a line stretched across the deck as he joined them. He nodded to Maddie and Allie, before continuing to Gillian. “And they are known for disapproving of fun, while you should be having more of it.” He crouched beside her and held up his hands. “Pat-a-cake?”

“Pat what?” Gillian asked.

Clay glanced up at Allie in obvious surprise. Allie lowered herself beside him, skirts pooling about her.

“It's another game, sweetheart,” she explained. “Like this.” She slapped her palms on her thighs and held her hands up to Clay's. He met hers with a smile and joined her in the rhyme.

“Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake

Baker's man

That I will master as fast as I can.

Pat it and prick it and mark it with a...”

“G,” Allie improvised.

Clay nodded, and they finished together. “And put it in the oven for Gillian and me.”

At the last clap, Clay caught her hands, grinning so hard his dimple popped into view. His fingers were firm and warm, his gaze warmer. She couldn't look away.

“May I learn, please?” Gillian asked politely.

Face heating, Allie pulled back to rise. “I'm sure your uncle will be glad to teach you. Give Mama a moment in the shade, and then we can try together.”

Allie could feel Clay's gaze on her as she went to sit by the railing under the cool of a sail's shadow.

“Take a deep breath now,” Maddie murmured beside her. “Sure'n any lady would be flustered to have the likes of Mr. Howard holding her hand.”

“Really, Maddie,” Allie scolded, knowing she sounded too much like Catherine. “It's only a game.”

“And a fine one at that,” Maddie assured her with a wink that made Allie laugh despite herself.

She thought Clay might join them in their play more often after that. He seemed to find the salons too confining, for he was more often to be seen on deck, helping the crew or talking with the captain or one of the gentlemen passengers. As she had teased him, he appeared to know a little about everything, from handling the wheel to the finer points of Milton. She told herself she should be glad he kept himself so busy instead of hovering over her and Gillian.

He saw it as his duty to protect her. She didn't want to lean on his strength. She had to build her own strength, for her sake and Gillian's. And she didn't much like the way she reacted when he was around, growing breathless at his glance. Yet now she had a more important reason to wish his company.

He knew about Seattle.

She had read everything she could about the place in the newspapers and emigration pamphlets, but she couldn't help thinking that the accounts were biased. The newspapers either thought it an excellent place poised for growth or a horrible backwoods where one was likely to meet an untimely death. The pamphlets, and Mr. Mercer, for that matter, touted only the wonders to be found there. She wanted more. She wanted facts.

She was still thinking about the matter their first Sunday at sea when the rumor spread that Mr. Mercer intended to officiate at church services in the upper salon.

“Sure'n his time in the coal bin must have given him a glimpse of eternal punishment,” Maddie teased as she helped Allie dress Gillian in her best gown, a rainbow-striped satin with black cord trim across the shoulder and hem. “Perhaps someone should be telling him that he'd do better kneeling at the altar than presuming to stand upon it.”

Allie smiled as she straightened the pink satin bow at the back of her daughter's head. If God could forgive her for her fears in the past, He could certainly forgive Mr. Mercer his cowardice. The other women had, for the most part, forgiven him. Whenever Allie saw him, he had one or more ladies with him, asking him about Seattle, listening to his advice. She still couldn't make up her mind about him. Either he was a cunning charlatan or the most put-upon man of her acquaintance.

Regardless, she was quite looking forward to singing the Lord's praise that morning for sending her and Gillian on this journey. She'd even donned one of her nicest gowns, a sky-blue silk with wide panels of white edging the bodice, overskirt and cuffs, and a neat white collar trimmed in lace. Maddie had also changed into her best dress. The russet color of the fine wool brought out the fire in her hair, and the black lace shawl that crossed the bodice showed her figure to advantage. With Catherine in a white gown trimmed in blue with a blue jacket on top, Allie thought they made a handsome group.