Moonlight on Water (4 page)

“Calm down. That's the name of where we eat.”

She took a steadying breath. She was acting like a shrew, but she was worried about Kitty Cat. “I thought the dining room on a boat was called a mess.”

“On a ship, it's a mess. On a riverboat, it's the saloon.”

“Oh.”

He smiled, his eyes crinkling into lines that suggested he smiled often. “Anything else I can help you learn?”

“About the boat?”

“Or whatever you wish.”

Hoping that she had misunderstood his suggestive answer, she hurried to say, “I must ask you to bring Kitty Cat to me immediately, so I can take her home.”

“It won't hurt to let the kid finish her supper, will it?”

“She should come home now.”

“Rachel—”

“You should address me as Miss Browning.”

“Why?”

She was not going to spend the evening teaching him his manners. “If you will bring Kitty Cat to me, I shall leave you to your business.”

“Kitty Cat
is
my business at the moment.”

“Yours?”

“Everything on
The Ohio Star
is my business, and she is on
The Ohio Star
.” He eyed her up and down, and a rakish smile tugged at his mustache. “So are you. Why don't you come up and have supper with us? I suspect you've been searching high and low for the kid and missed your own supper.”

Rachel hesitated. Perhaps the man was trying to make up for his crude comments. “I should take Kitty Cat home without delay.”

“All right. Suit yourself, but I'm going to go and get my supper. You can wait here until Kitty Cat is done with hers and I'm done with mine.”

Rachel frowned. The man was not being gracious. Nor was he being kind. She could not leave the little girl with such a rogue.

“All right,” she said, using his words. “I will accept your invitation, Mr.—”

“Colton, but you can call me Wyatt.” He gave her another grin that dared her to slap it from his face.

“Mr. Colton, I would like to see Kitty Cat now.”

“Say please.”

“What?”

He arched a brow. “I thought a lady always said please. If you aren't a lady”—he ran a finger along her jacket sleeve—“that would be all right, too.”

“Mr. Colton!” She edged back a step and bumped into a wall. She looked over her shoulder to discover there must be a room in the middle of this deck. When he moved toward her, she said, “Please!”

“Now that isn't a very nice please.”

“It wasn't intended to be.” She put her hand over her mouth, shocked at her own impertinence. She was being as outspoken as when she had questioned the Assembly of Elders. Her expectation that she had learned her lesson then and would now curtail her impetuosity seemed to be misguided.

“Well, well.” Mr. Colton put a hand on the wall and grinned. “The kid's name may be Kitty Cat, but I can see who has the claws.”

“Mr. Colton, would you
please
show me the way to where Kitty Cat is?”

He held out his crooked arm. “This way.”

Rachel hesitated again. She might speak up boldly, but she never had been comfortable around strangers. Especially this strange man who seemed to be able to irritate her with every word he spoke and every glance he fired in her direction.

“Do you want to go or stay here?” Mr. Colton asked. “My supper is getting cold, Rachel.”

She put her hand gingerly on his arm. As she had expected, his shirt sleeves were tight against hard muscles. “Mr. Colton, I think it would be much easier for all involved if you would address me as Miss Browning.”

“I don't always like to take the easy way.”

With a motion as grand as if they stood in an elegant ballroom, he turned her toward the stairs that were just wide enough for the two of them. She put her foot on the first riser and wobbled.

“Steady there,” he said, pulling his arm from beneath her hand and putting it around her waist. “You'll get your river legs under you in a few minutes.”

“I am fine.”

“Yes, I believe you are.”

Rachel thought curses she would not speak aloud. This man had a patter as smooth as a planed board. Every word she spoke, he found a way to twist and toss back at her. The very best thing she could do would be to collect Kitty Cat and be on her way back to River's Haven before anyone discovered they both were gone.

How would she explain all of this to her overprotective brother if he noticed she and Kitty Cat were not in the cottage? She glanced at Mr. Colton. How would she explain
him
?

Three

Rachel was astonished to see simple curtains in the rooms that took up most of the upper decks. Only a small room at the front of the uppermost deck had no curtains. It had a big wheel at the center. She guessed that was from where the boat was piloted and an unobstructed view would be necessary.

Mr. Colton opened a door about halfway to the back of the boat and announced, “Get out your best manners, Horace. We've got company.”

Who was Horace? She did not ask that as she grasped the door frame when the boat rocked beneath her. It was not a fierce motion, but she never had been off solid ground before. Stumbling in Mr. Colton's view would be embarrassing.

The room was far more spacious than she had expected. It must be almost twice the size of the front room in her cottage. A cast-iron stove sat at the far end, its stovepipe snaking out through a hole in the wall. A trio of rocking chairs were set beneath a large window that gave a view of the back of the boat. She could not imagine Mr. Colton sitting there and complacently rocking. Beneath her feet as she entered the room was a braided rug. One section had pulled apart, and she could see where hasty stitches had drawn it back together again.

Delicious aromas filled the room, aromas that reminded her of her family's small farmhouse when she had been a child. She could almost believe that if she closed her eyes the spicy scent would carry her back to that time and place.

“Rachel!” Kitty Cat jumped up from a bench on one side of a table that was big enough for a dozen to sit at. Waving as if she feared Rachel could not see her, she called, “Over here!”

Fighting her unsteady feet, Rachel went to the table and gathered the little girl up in her arms. She hugged her tightly even as she said, “You have scared at least a year off my life, Kitty Cat. How could you go off like that and not tell me or anyone else where you were going?”

“No one else cares.”

“But
I
do!” She wished Mr. Colton and the older man who had been sitting across the table from Kitty Cat were not listening to this conversation. “Kitty Cat, you must never go off without telling me first where you are going. Not ever again.”

Squirming to get away, Kitty Cat pointed to the older man. “That's Mr. Horace. He cooked supper tonight. It's good.” She grinned. “And he's funny.”

The older man nodded toward her. “'Tis a pleasure …”

“She's Rachel,” Mr. Colton said as he walked past the table, heading toward the far side of the room.

“Rachel Browning,” she added with a glower in his direction.

Horace—or was it
Mister
Horace as Kitty Cat called him?—smiled, but said, “'Tis a pleasure, Miss Rachel. Can I get you some grub?”

“Pardon me?” she asked.

Kitty Cat tugged on her sleeve. “He means supper, Rachel. I told you that Mr. Horace is funny.”

“Yes.” She glanced at Horace and nodded. “Thank you. I'd like that.”

She heard a thunk behind her and saw Mr. Colton setting a chair at one end of the table. He motioned for her to sit. She hesitated again when she saw it was the only one, other than the rocking chairs, in the room.

“I don't want to take your chair, Mr. Colton.”

She realized she had said the wrong thing again when he answered in a clipped voice, “You're not taking it. I'm offering it. You can sit or stand as you wish. I'm going to eat, and I don't like to eat on my feet. Either both of you ladies sit down so we men can sit, or go back outside and wait until we're done.”

Kitty Cat giggled.

Despite his sharp retort, Mr. Colton did not sit until she did. Then he threw one leg over the bench and the top of Kitty Cat's head, making the little girl giggle more as he sat beside her.

Between herself and Kitty Cat, Rachel noticed with a pulse of dismay. Then she told herself not to be silly. These two men had treated the little girl with obvious kindness, and they had kept her here so anyone looking for her could find her.

The man who had been introduced to her only as Horace brought two heaping plates to the table. He set one in front of Mr. Colton and the other in front of her. Intriguing aromas flowed upward on the steam, but she looked at it in dismay.

“If you don't clean your plate,” Mr. Colton said, “you won't get any dessert.”

She raised her gaze to find him regarding her with far less amusement than in his voice. His eyes were, she realized, a shade somewhere between blue and silver, combining both but not exactly either color. One side of his mustache quirked, and she suspected he was trying to exasperate her again. She must not allow him to get the better of her once more.

“Before I attempt to eat all this,” she replied, “I need to know what's for dessert.”

Horace chortled as he sat down again. “She's a quick one, Wyatt. You need to watch out for her.” Leaning toward her, he added, “Pumpkin pie.”

“That
is what smells so good.”

“Clean your plate,” said Mr. Colton, “and you can find out if it tastes as good as it smells.”

“All right.” She picked up her plate and slid half the food onto his plate.

As gravy spilled over the sides of his plate, he stared at her in disbelief. “Why did you do that?”

“You told me I needed to clean my plate, and I shall, although, as I said, I can't eat it all.”

Horace slapped the table and laughed. More gravy splattered off Mr. Colton's plate when the table trembled. Kitty Cat wore a tentative smile while she looked from Rachel to Mr. Colton. Rachel gave Kitty Cat a broad smile. The little girl relaxed and began to eat again as heartily as if she had to finish off a plate as overflowing as Mr. Colton's.

“You should come to call more often,” Horace said. “This is the best laugh I've had since
The Ohio Star
struck that sandbar.”

“Sandbar?” Rachel asked, abruptly dismayed. “This boat is damaged?”

“It isn't going to sink, if that's what's making you turn as pale as death. Calm down and eat up,” ordered Mr. Colton, putting his hand over hers as she gripped the table and started to stand. “And sit down!”

Rachel dropped back to her chair. She could obey that command, but calming down was impossible when Mr. Colton's work-hardened hand surrounded her fingers. A very peculiar sensation rushed through her, a pleasurable sensation of holding onto something that sizzled. She pulled her hand from beneath his, and the feeling vanished.
He
had caused this? She had to get Kitty Cat and herself out of here as soon as was politely possible. She must not have any feelings—not even these odd ones—for a man who did not belong to the River's Haven Community.

Mr. Colton grimaced and looked away. When he took his fork in one hand and tapped the fingers on the other against the table impatiently, she clenched her hands on the arms of the chair. He might as well have spoken the insult he obviously was thinking. His distaste with making the mistake of touching her could not be any clearer.

“Maybe Shirley and I can come back tomorrow,” Kitty Cat said, “and see the rest of the boat, Mr. Horace.”

“You know that won't be possible,” Rachel said, trying to keep a lighthearted smile in place. “Tomorrow you have your ciphering class with Miss Hanson.”

Horace chuckled. “Maybe some other day, then.”

Putting down her fork before she had taken a single bite, Rachel said, “I'm afraid that's not possible. We prefer that the children remain close to the Community.”

“I saw kids playing all over Haven this afternoon,” Mr. Colton said.

“Maybe in Haven, but I'm speaking about River's Haven.”

“River's Haven?”

She recoiled from the venom in his eyes. It was nothing like the teasing provocation she had seen on the deck below. Any hint of humor had vanished into this fury that was aimed directly at her.

“River's Haven?” he repeated tightly. “You two are from
there
?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you live
there
?”

She looked at Kitty Cat, who was listening avidly, then said, “I'd prefer not to speak of that now.”

“Ashamed?” he fired back.

“Wyatt,” growled his partner, “give Miss Rachel a chance to eat before everything is cold.”

Nothing, Rachel decided, could be icier than the chill in Mr. Colton's eyes. She was not ashamed of where she lived and the people she lived with, and she would not allow anyone to disparage River's Haven within Kitty Cat's earshot just now. The little girl needed to become more comfortable in the Community before she faced the prejudice outside it.

“It might be better if we left now,” she said.

Horace shook his head. “You said you'd stay for dessert, Miss Rachel.”

“Please,” seconded Kitty Cat. “I've never had pumpkin pie. I want to see what it tastes like.”

Rachel suspected that Kitty Cat had learned the very way to persuade her to agree. The little girl seldom spoke of the deprivation and horrors of living in the city slums, but Rachel did not have to hear the stories. Her own imagination could supply enough appalling details. Since Kitty Cat had come to live with her, Rachel had tried to give the child as many different experiences as possible to make up for the ones Kitty Cat had missed out in the first six years of her life. But not in a hundred years would she have guessed Kitty Cat had never eaten a piece of pumpkin pie.