Love Inspired Historical November 2014 (42 page)

She stiffened beside him. “Gillian! Come away from the water!”

He turned to find the waves lapping at the toes of Gillian's black boots as the little girl stared out at the water as if fascinated. She raised one arm to point out to sea. “But, Mother, I see a mermaid!”

Allie frowned, and Clay gave her his hand to help her down from the rock. Now he saw it, too, two warm brown eyes gazing back at them from a furry round face.

“That's not a mermaid, Gillian,” he called. “That's the mermaid's pet lion.”

“It's a sea lion, sweetheart,” Allie agreed.

Gillian turned her gaze on theirs, clearly perplexed. The look struck him as hard as a rock. When had he ever seen her smile?

“What happened in Boston?” he murmured to Allie, gaze on the little girl who now trudged toward them as if the world was devoid of wonders. “Who hurt Gillian?”

Allie sucked in a breath. “I'm sorry, Clay. I didn't want to tell you.”

“I can't believe Frank would be cruel to his own daughter.” The words came out harsh, but he couldn't stop the disappointment in his brother and the anger at the injustice.

Allie shook her head. “No, Clay. Never Frank. He loved Gillian. He even wrote to her while on campaign, telling her stories about the people he met.” She took a deep breath. “It was my fault.”

Clay seized both her hands, feeling them cool in the warm air. “I won't believe that, either. I've seen how much you love her.”

Her face was nearly as pinched as her daughter's. “But for a time, I didn't stand up for her. I let myself be guided by another voice, your mother's. She seemed so certain strong discipline was necessary. Spare the rod and—”

“Spoil the child,” Clay finished, the ugly memories circling him like a flock of ravens. “I remember. I used to think it was my fault she was always disappointed in me. I must have been particularly wicked, because I always needed punishment. The tutors never had to raise a hand to Frank.”

“That's because Frank never disobeyed,” she replied, voice choking. “Until the day he decided it was his duty to help in the war. Your mother was beside herself. I think that's why she insisted that everyone be so hard on Gillian. She wanted to remove any chance that her granddaughter might disobey and leave her, as well.”

Gillian had stopped to pluck a shell from the sand, turning her discovery this way and that so that the coral color glowed in the sunlight. Was his mother so used to bending society to her will that she demanded similar obedience from everyone in her family? She'd certainly used Clay with her story about losing Allie. She hadn't even mentioned her granddaughter! He felt his hands fisting, thinking of anyone being so cruel to Gillian.

Or Allie.

“And yet that very discipline made you run away,” he realized. “You gave up everything for Gillian.”

She shook her head. “Don't make me a martyr, Clay. I wasn't too fond of your mother's rules myself, especially after Frank died. I suppose I wanted my freedom.”

Clay gazed out over the crystal waters. No wonder she fought him at every turn, why she refused to marry again. She couldn't take the chance that the man or his family would harm her daughter.

His gaze returned to hers, and he took a step back from her. “Then be free, Allie. Do whatever pleases you for once.”

She laughed. “Here, now?”

Clay spread his hands. “Why not? You broke away. You earned it.”

Her laughter sparkled brighter than the sand. “You're right. I did. Gillian!”

He wasn't sure what she was about, but as her daughter joined her by the rock, she had her sit on the sand and set about removing her boots and stockings.

“Turn your back,” she told Clay, who turned, bemused, to gaze out over the volcanic wastes. The rustle of cloth gave him a hint of what she was about.

“Clay!” she called, and he looked back. She'd removed her own shoes and stockings, as well, hitched up her petticoats to bring her skirts a good six inches off her feet. Gillian likewise stood with her legs bare, staring down at her toes as if she wasn't sure where they'd come from.

Allie's eyes were bright. “Come play,” she said.

Laughter rumbled up inside him, and he bent to remove his boots and socks. A few minutes later, and he was running down the warm sand for the cool water.

“Isn't this marvelous?” Allie asked, and he could see her pink toes wiggling in the sand as she stood in a few inches of water. She held out her hands to her daughter, who stood beside her kicking at a wave as if she wanted it to go away. “Come on, Gillian. Let's dance.”

The little girl regarded her with a frown, as if she wasn't sure such things were allowed. “Why?”

Allie's hands fell, and Clay could see the effort it took to keep her smile in place.

Clay waded to Gillian's side and bent to tweak a curl. “Come now, Captain Howard. What will the mermaids think if they see you so serious? You might scare them away.”

“I think you might be right,” Allie said. “Mermaids are known for having fun.” She bent and scooped up a handful of water and tossed it upward like a fountain. Though it came nowhere near her, Gillian retreated.

“Mother,” she scolded, sounding all too much like her grandmother. “That wasn't nice.”

“No harm done,” Clay told her. “It's all right to play, Gillian. Like this.” He loped along the beach, each step splashing water up his legs. When he was sure he was out of reach from Allie, he turned and stuck out his tongue at her. “Nah, nah. Can't catch me.”

“Well!” Allie put her hands on her hips and looked to her daughter. “I say we most certainly can catch him. In fact, I think it's our duty to catch him. What do you say, Gillian?”

Gillian glanced between Clay and her mother. Something inside the little girl was fighting for supremacy.

Please, Lord, help her be who You made her, not what my mother tried to make her.

Gillian raised her head and nodded. Slowly at first, then gaining speed, she hurtled down the waves toward him.

Clay ran.

Round and round they went, up and down the beach, always in the shallows for Gillian's sake. Allie's laugh sent his heartbeat faster than the run. He knew the splashing salt water was likely ruining his wool trousers, but he didn't care.

“Got you!” Gillian dived for his legs, up to her knees in water, and hung on tight.

“I surrender!” Clay declared, raising his hands over his head. The smile aimed up at him was priceless. He couldn't keep himself from bending and sweeping her up, tossing her above his head.

And she laughed, a giggle as warm and golden as the sun beating down. Allie froze at the edge of the waves and pressed her fingers to her lips.

Clay hugged Gillian close as he waded to Allie's side.

“I caught him, Mother!” Gillian crowed.

Moisture sparkled on Allie's cheeks, and he didn't think it was seawater. “Yes, you did, Gillian. Well done.”

Gillian bounced in Clay's arms. “Let's do it again!”

Clay set her down on the sand. “All right, Gillian. But this time, how about I catch you?”

She giggled again and ran off up the beach.

“Thank you,” Allie said. “You gave me back my daughter.”

“I'd like to give her a father, too,” Clay said, voice tight in his throat. “I've fallen in love with you all over again, Allie.”

She sucked in a breath, pressed her lips together as if to keep from speaking. He plunged ahead anyway.

“I want you beside me in Seattle. I never needed a wife who sits on the sofa looking charming while she entertains. I don't own a sofa, and I doubt I'll ever entertain like our parents did. You've shown me what it can be like to have a helpmate, a woman I love who will stand with me, support me just as I support her. I know you don't want to marry, but is there anything I can do or say to change your mind?”

In answer, she stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss against his cheek. “I'll consider your proposal,” she murmured in his ear. “But first you have a promise to keep.”

Clay frowned as she lowered herself again. “What promise is that?”

Allie pointed up the beach where a small figure was growing smaller every second. “You have to catch a mermaid, sir, before she gets away!”

Chapter Nineteen

A
llie had never felt more alive as they returned to the ship. Gillian's eyes still glowed with the adventures of the day, and Allie knew she would always remember hearing her daughter's laughter floating in the golden air.

She also knew who had brought about the changes in Gillian. From the first, Clay had encouraged her daughter to play, to dream. And though he had distrusted Allie's dreams in the beginning, she thought he finally understood why Seattle was so important to her.

She was beginning to understand why he was important to her, as well. She could always count on him to be waiting if her strength failed her. But marriage? And to a Howard?

Father, how am I to answer him? My heart beats with his, but my mind says beware!

As they reached Allie's stateroom, Clay bent and kissed her cheek.

“I look forward to hearing your answer,” he murmured, and that deep voice vibrated with hope. With a nod to Maddie, who was waiting in the doorway, he headed for the stairs to the upper salon, his salt-crusted trousers snapping with each step.

“And what answer would that be now?” Maddie asked as Allie entered the room to change herself and Gillian out of their own salty clothing.

“I'll explain later,” Allie said, all too aware of Gillian's presence. She knew her daughter adored Clay, but she didn't want to encourage her to believe in so tenuous a future. It wasn't until she had settled the little girl to sleep that evening that she had a chance to talk to her friend.

“You should have seen Gillian today,” she murmured as she watched the even rise and fall of her daughter's chest under the wool blanket. “She had so much fun!” She and Maddie were wrapped in their flannel nightgowns and sitting on the bench across from the bunks.

“Sure'n her dress tells the tale,” Maddie said. “I'm not looking forward to washing out all that sand and salt!”

Allie couldn't summon the guilt that would once have accompanied that statement. “And I don't care! I saw her smile today, Maddie. I heard her laugh.”

Maddie clasped her hand and held it tight. “Praise the Lord for that!”

“There's more.” Allie pulled back her hand and rubbed it with the other. “Clay asked me to marry him.”

“And?” Maddie fairly bounced on the bench. “Well? How did you answer?”

“I didn't,” Allie confessed. “I told him I had to think about it.”

Maddie nodded, curling her legs under the red flannel once more. “Good. You've no need to be rushing into anything.”

Allie couldn't help a laugh. “I've known him since I was born, and we almost married six years ago. I'd hardly call that a rush.”

Maddie's eyes crinkled. “It makes a fellow humble to be kept waiting, so it does. Just be certain this is what the Lord intends for you before agreeing.”

Allie couldn't argue there. She'd always felt this trip was God's leading. Could it be He had intended her to reunite with Clay all along?

She thought and prayed about the matter as the next two weeks passed and the
Continental
continued her course north. Each day, she felt more annoyed with herself that she could not settle on an answer. Where was the strength she'd worked so hard to build? Why couldn't she reason out the right response?

Clay, for his part, did not press her, though it seemed to her he spent even more time than usual in her and Gillian's company. His hand reached for hers as they stood by the railing looking for mermaids with Gillian, his voice joined with hers at worship services. Gillian's laugh became an everyday occurrence as Clay chased her around the ship, teased her at meals and read to them in the evenings, his warm voice drawing in others as well.

“Sure'n the fellow's smitten,” Maddie assured Allie with a wink.

Allie found it hard to doubt Clay's devotion. She found it equally hard to question her own. Clay challenged her, made her think about her plans, her approaches, helped her see the best path for her. When he gazed at her, she felt like the most beautiful, talented woman in the room, which was saying a lot considering the beauty and talent among the ladies of the Mercer expedition.

Yet something held her back. Marriage meant bending her will to another's. Having just escaped such a trap and with her strength still new, how could she submit herself again, even to Clay?

She was getting heartily tired of her thoughts chasing her in circles. The next stop, she knew, was San Francisco. Surely Clay deserved an answer by then.

Knowing her intentions was one more reason for her stomach to start fluttering when the purser announced at breakfast one morning that they would reach the famous city by nightfall.

“We're almost at the end of our journey,” Maddie said, eyes shining. “I can see those streets of gold now.”

“You are confusing San Francisco with utopia, Madeleine,” Catherine said with a smile. “But I am looking forward to seeing this great metropolis myself.”

So was Clay, it seemed, for he was already extolling the virtues to Gillian as they finished the meal.

“Islands more fair than the Galápagos,” he promised her, “with plenty of trees and rocks to climb and shells to collect. And playhouses to watch stories come to life.”

“We'll be staying for a week so Captain Windsor can bring more food and coal aboard,” Allie told her daughter. “We can see all the wonders if you like.”

Gillian nodded with a smile. “Yes, please, Mother.”

Mother
still. It was the last vestige of her trauma in Boston. But Allie held out hope that the word
Mama
would return one day, perhaps when they saw some of Clay's wonders.

Which started that very afternoon.

Through a rising mist, the
Continental
approached American soil for the first time in months. All the passengers lined the railings, hats and hankies at the ready.

“They call this the Golden Gate,” Clay told Gillian as the
Continental
passed between two tall wooded headlands into the bay. “It's the gateway to all the gold found in the hills outside San Francisco.” Her daughter was up on his shoulder as usual, peering about her in her plaid dress, while Allie stood beside them in her blue-and-white gown and Matt squeezed between.

Maddie, who stood with Catherine on Allie's other side in her best russet dress, gave her friend a nudge. “Now are you seeing what I meant about gold?” As Catherine smiled and shook her head, Maddie pointed to a rocky isle that appeared to be blocking their way. “And is that one of your favored isles, Clay?”

“No, that's Alcatraz,” Clay answered. “It holds a military garrison with more than one hundred cannons to protect the entrance to the bay.”

Matt whistled. Gillian looked impressed, but at Clay's fact or her friend's whistle, Allie wasn't sure.

Maddie grinned. “One hundred cannons ought to take more than a hundred soldiers to handle.”

“Few of whom are allowed to visit the city at any time,” Clay assured her with a smile.

Allie was craning her neck for a glimpse of San Francisco itself. Everyone had been talking about this Boston of the West, Mr. Reynold's shining city, Maddie's golden land. From the deck of the
Continental,
all she could see were stocky stone and clapboard businesses crowded together in shades of gray, as if someone had started building at the water's edge and hadn't stopped until they reached the highest hills. There were no trees, no grass in sight, the land baking under the warm spring sun. Though wide board sidewalks lined the lanes, the streets were made of dirt, and every passing wagon or carriage raised dust that hung in the air.

This was the great metropolis?

“Look at the wharf, will you now?” Maddie said, pointing to one of the many docks that stuck out into the bay. “Who'd have thought the whole town would come out to meet us? It's like when we reached Coronel all over again, so it is.”

Allie could see the crowds now, too. Not a square inch of planking was visible along the dock. As the
Continental
made berth, willing hands tied off the ropes, waved in greeting.

“But they're all men,” Catherine marveled as the other passengers flapped hankies and cheered their arrival.

She was right. Allie could see bowlers and Stetsons bumping each other as their welcoming party jockeyed for position.

“Throw down the gangway!” someone yelled, and the cry was immediately taken up and chanted. Men climbed on each other's backs to get closer to the ship. As if he didn't like what he saw, Clay lifted Gillian from his shoulder and set her down next to Allie. Matt hurried off for the bow as if to gain a better vantage point.

Allie pulled her daughter close as Clay put an arm about her waist. For once, she didn't fight his protection. She had a sinking feeling she was going to need it.

She couldn't help her sigh of relief when Captain Windsor appeared at the railing. His long face was grim; his gloved hands gripped the wood as if to assert his right to the space.

“This dock belongs to the Holladay shipping line,” he informed the waiting men, voice stern with command. “You have no authority here, and you are preventing me from off-loading.”

“Then throw the ladies over the side,” another man yelled. “We'll be happy to catch them!”

Allie saw Catherine and Maddie exchange glances and heard other women gasp.

“We won't let that happen,” Clay murmured beside her.

“We most certainly will not,” Allie agreed, and Catherine snapped a nod, as well.

“No lady will leave this ship until you clear out,” Captain Windsor insisted as if he had heard the exchange.

“Then let us aboard!” the man demanded, and his comrades chorused their agreement as they pushed closer to the edge of the dock.

“Sure'n they'll tumble in,” Maddie said with a shake of her head.

“And if they do, their friends will walk across their bodies,” Catherine predicted. “We may need to go below, ladies.”

Allie couldn't make herself move.

“I'll give you fifty dollars in gold,” someone shouted.

“No, one hundred!” another man yelled.

“Five hundred!”

“A thousand!”

“Glory be,” Maddie said, eyes wide. “You really can strike it rich in California.”

Clay turned to the captain. “Put me ashore. I'll find the police station, bring back help.”

“I can't lower the gangway,” Captain Windsor replied, frown on the men blocking them. “They'll only rush it. As it is, I may have to enlist your help to repel boarders.” Then he raised his voice and pointed ahead. “Ho, Weinhardt, get those men off the bowline!”

“What nonsense!” Catherine cried. “Have they no self-respect?”

“No wives, more likely,” Maddie replied. “Though, mind you, I've never been much for desperation. It makes a gent do crazy things.”

Allie shook her head. Already the men on the dock were casting about as if looking for another way aboard. Some had cut the ropes holding the supply boats to the wharf and were making ready to put out into the harbor. Did they intend to capture the
Continental
like pirates?

As Captain Windsor finished directing his staff to protect the ship, Allie caught his arm.

“Must we stay here, Captain?” she asked. “Can we take on the supplies we need and simply sail on to Seattle?”

He touched his cap in respect. “I'm afraid not, Mrs. Howard. My orders are to go no farther than San Francisco. You will all be let off the ship shortly. It will be up to Mr. Mercer to find another way to Seattle.”

* * *

Clay stiffened even as Allie washed white.

“Now, see here, my good man,” Catherine said, raising her chin. “We paid our fare to Seattle.”

“If you'll forgive me for saying so, ma'am,” the captain replied, “most of the people on this ship paid less than the actual price, and your Mr. Mercer failed to make up the difference per the contract he signed with the Holladay line. You can't blame Mr. Holladay for taking what measures he must to keep his company solvent.”

“Solvent!” Maddie cried. “Sure'n you've fed us nothing but salt beef and beans for three months! I don't see how that could have cost your Mr. Holladay such a fortune.”

“If you have an issue, madam,” Captain Windsor said, face stiff, “I suggest you take it up with Mr. Mercer.” With a nod, he strode off, calling orders to his crew.

“This is outrageous!” Catherine fumed. “What, are we to make our way north on foot?”

“I won't,” Maddie said. “There must be more than one man in that rabble who has need of a baker or a laundress. My future's made right here.”

Clay waited for Allie to protest, but her gaze roamed the crowd. She was so pale her skin matched the white collar of her gown. Now she turned her gaze to his, and he felt as if he could see her concerns written in the expansive blue of her eyes.

“You said they wouldn't force us to marry, Clay,” she reminded him, “but what do you call this? They're like wolves after sheep. Will Seattle be worse?”

“No,” Clay promised her, “for the sole reason that we have a smaller population. You'll likely have a welcoming committee in the dozens rather than the hundreds.”

By the deepening of her frown, the fact did not comfort her.

He had to admit it didn't comfort him, either. San Francisco was held up as the center of commerce and culture along the West Coast. If this was how the bachelors behaved here, he wasn't sure he wanted to see what would happen in Seattle.

Captain Windsor refused to let anyone leave the ship, so Clay escorted Allie and Gillian back to their stateroom, then spent the rest of the evening patrolling the deck with the crew. Word must have reached the local police, for a contingency arrived as night fell. The constabulary set up a perimeter around the ship, ordered the boisterous welcoming party to cease and desist. By midnight, all that remained were the watchful policemen. At least that meant Clay could get some sleep.