Moonlight on Water (30 page)

Wyatt walked away from the cottage, half expecting an attack from behind. Nothing happened. He glanced back to see the two men and Miss Page walking back to the common house. He had won this encounter, but he was not about to fool himself. The battle was far from done, and one mistake would mean Rachel married to Foley.

Twenty

“Happy birthday to you, K. C,” Wyatt said with a smile as he placed a package covered in brown paper in front of the little girl.

Rachel had not felt this uncomfortable on
The Ohio Star
since the first night she had come aboard. It was not simply that her brother and Mr. Foley would be furious to discover her visiting here. This was the first time she had been back to the boat since the fire—since the night she had become Wyatt's lover.

Although both Wyatt and Horace had assured her that the boat was repairable, she had been horrified to see the charred wood at the front of the upper decks. Raw, green planks had been nailed in place in front of the pilothouse. Even the lowest deck was spotted with scorch marks from where embers had fallen.

Was this her fault? More than once Merrill had warned her to stay away from
The Ohio Star
and Wyatt She did not want to think that her brother had decided to try to ensure that she could not come here again.

Horace put his hand on her arm, and she gave him a tremulous smile.

“Today's a day to enjoy, Miss Rachel,” he said. “It ain't every day that we have a birthday party on
The Ohio Star
.”

Rachel looked back at Kitty Cat who was giggling as she ripped off the paper. Shreds covered her light blue dress by the time she lifted out a wooden steamboat. She crowed with delight and showed it off to Rachel and Horace before dropping to her knees to run it over the deck.

“What a lovely gift, Wyatt,” Rachel said with a genuine smile. “It's just what she wanted. Her own steamboat.”

“I know.”

“You do, don't you?” She laughed softly.

He took her hand. Rubbing her fingers, he used a single finger to tip her face up so her eyes met his.

She quivered beneath the potent emotions glowing there. Wyatt had never hidden his desire for her. Even when she stood on the deck of his boat that first evening, fearful for Kitty Cat, he had watched her with eager longing. Then he had turned from her, not wanting to get involved with anyone from River's Haven. But the invisible thread of desire that drew them together refused to be cut.

“It's supposed to be
The Ohio Star,
” he said while his eyes held an invitation to delight. “I'm afraid my whittling isn't as fancy as Horace's.”

“Don't listen to him,” his partner retorted. “He's been doing all the carving for the new posts in the rail on the top deck. He's good with a knife. The wheels even move on the side of that little boat.” He walked across the deck, calling to Kitty Cat.

Rachel stepped back before she could no longer resist putting her arms around Wyatt. In his fancy silver vest over his white shirt and black trousers, he looked the part of a riverboat gambler instead of riverboat owner. His boots shone in the late-afternoon sunshine like the bright buckle on his belt, and his hair was neatly slicked back. His hat sat on a bench by the boiler room.

All the voices that floated down from the village warned her how easily she and Kitty Cat could be seen here. She knew she was asking for trouble by coming to the boat before going into the village, but she could not deny Kitty Cat—and herself—this visit on the little girl's birthday.

“We should go,” Rachel said. “The parade will be starting soon.”

“I figured you were about to say that.” He smiled grimly. “Did your brother read you the riot act this morning?”

“Pretty much.”

“How about Foley? Did he try to browbeat you, too?”

She frowned. “I heard you talking with Merrill and Mr. Foley outside the cottage last night. Did something happen?”

“Not what they'd have liked to have happened. They were right put out when I mentioned
The Ohio Star
might have left Haven by now if someone hadn't set her afire.” He chuckled. “I never saw such guilty faces.”

Rachel wanted to defend her brother against this accusation, but she could not. All she could think of was how easily Wyatt spoke of leaving. “I didn't think you'd planned to set out until that shipment comes in on the railroad.”

“I'm not. That's why I said ‘might.'” His smile evaporated like morning fog on the river. “Honey, let's not talk about me leaving today. Let's enjoy the evening.”

She started to answer, but the raucous sound of horns interrupted her. The parade must be getting ready to begin. Calling to Kitty Cat, she held her hand out to the little girl.

Kitty Cat grasped her hand and swung it as they crossed the plank to the pier, the little girl bouncing excitedly on every step. She put her boat into her sash and offered her other hand to Wyatt.

As he took it, he gazed over her head to Rachel. She waited for him to say something, not wanting to ruin this moment while they walked up the bluff to the village. To anyone who might glance in their direction, they looked like any other family out for the holiday. She wished it could be more than an illusion.

The little girl pulled away, shattering the fantasy, and ran along the main street to show off her birthday gift. The crackle of firecrackers seemed to burst in her wake.

When Wyatt offered his arm, Rachel put her hand on it. This afternoon, she was not wearing funereal black. She had spent last night adding several bands of fabric to the bottom of her pink-striped dress. She might resemble a crazy quilt, but she would be cool.

The village of Haven was garishly decorated with red, white, and blue. Bunting hung from the store and the livery stable. Flags fluttered fitfully everywhere. The clapboards along the front of the Grange Hall had been painted to make a giant flag with thirty-seven stars. It would have to be changed, in just a few weeks, when Colorado Territory became the newest state.

She saw the few people who had come from River's Haven were bunched together at one side of the green where shadows were already growing under the trees. They watched the villagers uneasily, and the residents of Haven seemed to be as ill at ease to have them in their midst.

“Rachel!” Emma Sawyer was waving to her. “Bring Mr. Colton, and come over and watch the parade with us on the store's porch.”

“Shall we?” Wyatt asked. “It looks to be the best seat in Haven.”

Rachel hesitated. To sit up there would put her blatantly on view to anyone who passed the store … which would be just about everyone. She glanced toward the people from the Community and realized it did not matter. They were already staring in her direction and pointing as if she had suddenly grown another nose.

“Rachel?” The good humor had vanished from Wyatt's voice. “If you'd rather watch the parade somewhere else …”

“We would be rude to turn down Emma's invitation.”

His smile came back like the sun emerging from behind a cloud. “Now you're being sensible.”

“I'm not being the least bit sensible,” she said as they crossed the street toward the raised porch at the front of Delancy's General Store. “But Horace is right. We should enjoy this day. I doubt if there will ever be another like it.”

“Don't think about that now.”

“I'm going to try. I don't want to ruin a bit of Kitty Cat's special day.”

Rachel was greeted warmly by Emma and her husband as well as Reverend Faulkner and his wife—an elf of a woman who had the widest smile Rachel had ever seen. Sitting in a rocking chair, Rachel ran her hands along the arms where the paint had been worn off.

“You look as if you've found heaven,” Wyatt said, drawing up a straight chair next to her.

“I didn't realize how much I missed having a rocking chair until I saw the ones on
The Ohio Star
.” Her voice broke as she added, “Of course, now I won't have a reason to have one.”

Putting his finger under her chin, he tipped it up. “Today is a happy day, honey.”

“I know.” She smiled.

“Here they come!” shouted Mr. Sawyer.

Rachel leaned forward to see past a pole at the end of the porch. Cheers near the railroad station announced that the Haven Centennial parade had begun. Hearing the enthusiastic but slightly off-key version of “Yankee Doodle,” she clapped along with everyone else as the band marched by. There were about a dozen musicians, ranging in age from not much older than Emma's son Sean to a gray-haired matron who was the only female in the band. She heard someone say it was the band that usually played at the Grange Hall.

They were followed by the town's pumper, pulled by a quartet of firemen. She slipped her hand over Wyatt's as it passed. The last time they had seen the pumper was when it lumbered down the hill to fight the fire on
The Ohio Star
.

“Over here!” Wyatt shouted and waved.

She smiled when she saw Horace scurrying across the dusty street between the pumper and four horses decorated with bunting. He climbed up and sat on the edge of the porch, swinging his hat in the air as he cheered for the young riders.

A horse-drawn buggy carried Haven's mayor and his wife. Behind them, a pair of horses drew a flat hay wagon. The wagon had three boys on it. They were as still as statues and dressed in what was supposed to be colonial garb. The two taller boys were Sean and, she guessed from Kitty Cat's description, the Rafferty boy who lived with Mr. Jennings. Another wagon followed that one. This one carried a score of children who were singing the same song the band had been playing.

Rachel waved to Kitty Cat, who was beaming as brightly as the hot sunshine. The little girl raised both hands in the air and wiggled her fingers.

Wyatt laughed. “I do think she believes the whole of this is a party for her birthday.”

A few more children following on foot brought up the end of the parade. The spectators fell in line behind them. Horace jumped down and was drawn into the crowd by an elderly woman who talked earnestly to him.

“That's Mrs. Randolph,” Emma said with a chuckle. “Do let your friend know that he doesn't need to listen to her all evening, for she'll bend his ear as long as he's willing. If he tires of it, he only needs to excuse himself. She's glad to air her opinions even if nobody is listening.”

“I don't think Mrs. Randolph is his target.” Wyatt stood and pointed to a slender brunette who seemed to be alone. “I hope I don't need to remind Horace that we'll be around Haven a while longer, and more trouble isn't something we want.” He tipped his hat to Emma and offered his arm again to Rachel. “Thank you for sharing your porch with us.”

“Sean made me promise that I'd ask you if you wanted to join us for the picnic at dark,” Emma said, putting her hands on the shoulders of two little girls who were younger than Kitty Cat. “Belinda and Maeve want to sit with Kitty Cat, too.”

“That sounds lovely.” Rachel smiled. “Where shall we meet you?”

Mr. Sawyer said, “The pit to cook the chickens is behind the Grange Hall. Why don't we meet by the Grange's front door when the food is served? I know our children will be first in line for it.”

“With Kitty Cat right behind them. We'll meet you there.” She walked with Wyatt down the steps and onto the street.

Dust swirled up around them, and for a moment she wished she had one of the dresses she wore at River's Haven, for its hem would not drag in the dirt. Wyatt sneezed, blowing the brown-gray cloud aside. She laughed, and he gave her a mock frown before strolling with her along the street.

“This is a cozy town,” he said as they reached the green in the very center.

“I didn't think you liked cozy.”

“It's fine as long as I don't have to live with it every day of the year.”

Kitty Cat ran up to them before Rachel could reply. “Did you see me? Did you see me?”

“Of course.” Rachel laughed. “Didn't you see us waving to you from the store's porch?”

“Oh, that's right.” She was deflated for only a second, then tugged on Wyatt's trousers. “Will you?”

“Will I what?” he asked.

“There's a pie-eating contest. Will you enter it, Wyatt?” She grinned. “You could win.”

He patted his stomach, then glanced at two of the bulky men who were already standing next to the table on the other side of the green. Pies were stacked on it. “They look as if they can eat much more than I can.”

“You can do it, Wyatt. You really can.”

“Kitty Cat,” Rachel said quietly, but smiled at Wyatt, “you should give Wyatt a chance to decide if he's up to the task of this competition.”

“But he can do it.” The little girl put her hands on her waist, and Wyatt resisted laughing. The motion brought Rachel immediately to mind.

“What a challenge!” He tapped his chin with one finger. “How does one go about entering?”

“Come with me! Sean said he'd show me what to do.”

Wyatt took her hand and grinned at Rachel as he let K. C. lead him toward the tables. When Sean held out his hand for a quarter to donate to the library fund, Wyatt fished a quarter out of his pocket. He wondered if anyone guessed how few coins were left in his pocket.

“I'd better enjoy the taste of this pie if I'm paying two bits for it,” he teased.

“You're not supposed to taste it,” K. C. said. “You're supposed to
eat
it as fast as you can.”

He laughed again and took his seat across from a man who was twice his girth. Several other men found seats around the table, most of them urged to do so by their children. When a man in the somber clothes of River's Haven sat next to Wyatt, a hum of comments raced through the onlookers with the speed of a telegraph message. The man glanced at Wyatt and quickly away.