Nan Ryan (5 page)

Kathleen stood steering the boat, the blond head barely able to peer over the wheel, the long pink cape blowing softly in the wind. Dawson stood directly behind her, saying, “Now just hold her steady, okay, turn just a bit, now straighten her out. You’re doing fine, honey.”

“I’ve mastered it,” she laughed gaily and felt giddy and exhilarated, her blue eyes dancing. They made their way slowly down the Mississippi and Kathleen loved every minute of her adventure. Dawson stood quietly behind her, smiling to himself, happy with her pleasure.

Around the bend of the river, a bright light suddenly came into view and Kathleen felt her hands tighten on the wheel. “Dawson, it’s another ship, what shall I do?”

“Blow the whistle to signal him.”

“How, I don’t know …”

“Here it is,” Dawson pulled the rope closer to her. “Now, pull on it a few times.”

She jerked the rope with all her might and jumped at the loud noise of the whistle blowing loudly. The oncoming vessel sounded a reply.

“Now what, Dawson?” She put both hands back on the wheel.

“Just keep right on your course and you’ll have no problems.”

The lights were growing close and Kathleen was growing nervous. She wished Dawson were steering, wished he would take the wheel, relieve her of her duties. As though he had read her mind, Dawson stepped a little closer to her and she could feel his hard chest touching her back, his chin brushing the top of her head. Slowly Dawson’s hands covered her shaky grip and she smiled and leaned back, safe again, no longer frightened with him so near. They passed the lighted ship to starboard with only a few feet to spare.

The crisis past, Kathleen relaxed. After a few minutes, Dawson leaned down and whispered, “I think that’s enough steering for your first time, matey.”

“I agree,” Kathleen said, willing to give the wheel back to Sam. He stepped up, smiling, and took over from her. Kathleen lifted her skirts daintily and started down the companionway, saying, “Dawson, where’s your cabin?”

“Below the wheelhouse.”

“Good, show it to me.”

“Dear, there’s nothing to see. It’s just a small cabin, large enough for me.”

They were on the hurricane deck and she turned and said, “Please, Dawson, I want to see where you stay when you go out on the boat. Sam called you the captain, didn’t he? Well, I want to see the captain’s quarters!” Dawson smiled and led her underneath the wheelhouse, down a few steps to the cabin door. Taking a key from his pocket, he opened the door while Kathleen leaned forward eagerly, “Oh, Dawson,” she said, starting inside, but he put his arm across the door to stop her.

“No, Kathleen, we aren’t going inside.” His eyes were strange and cold. Barely giving her time to glimpse the spacious room with its heavy desk and chair, mahogany paneled walls, oversized master bed neatly made, long leather couch, credenza with framed pictures on top, thick, rich carpet on the floor in a deep red shade, he was once again locking the door.

“Dawson, I want to go inside and look around and see what …”

“Miss, I don’t think you have any business being in my cabin.” Dawson meant it. His voice softened and he smiled at her, “Let’s go up to the bow and feel the spray on our cheeks.” Kathleen’s face brightened and she quickly agreed, but she was still puzzled about why he wouldn’t take her inside his cabin.

Together they walked to the very front of the boat. Kathleen put her hands on the railing and breathed in the cold night air. Her long blond hair whipped around her face and she shivered. Dawson saw her shake and stepped up behind her. His hands clutched the railing in a wider arc than Kathleen’s, encircling her in his arms.

“Dawson, I want to ask you something,” Kathleen said, looking out over the cold river.

“If it’s about going into my cabin I …”

“No, not that. Why do you have a black pilot on your boat? All the men on your boat are Negroes, aren’t they? Why do you use slaves to run your ship?”

He laughed and leaned closer, “Kathleen, Sam is not a slave, none of my crew are, they work for me. Sam would be hurt, darling. He’s a proud man and a very experienced riverboat pilot. He’s been standing his own watch for years. I admire and respect him.”

“But the others? They aren’t slaves?”

“Kathleen, I own no slaves.”

She whirled and looked up at him. “What about the Negroes that work your plantation? I don’t understand.”

“No, they all work for wages.” His jaw tightened and he looked straight at her and there was a fierceness in his black eyes that frightened her. “I don’t believe in one man owning another, Kathleen.”

“But, Dawson, Father owns hundreds of slaves. Everyone does.”

“Not everyone. I don’t and never have. Sam is my friend, an equal.”

“Dawson, why do you feel so strongly about something that …”

“Kathleen, there is more than one kind of slavery, all unpleasant. I know too well.”

“I’m sorry, Dawson.” Her lips began to tremble, afraid he was upset.

He said, “Let’s forget it. Don’t you love the river at night?” They turned back around to look out at the water.

“Yes,” she answered dreamily, happy his mood had passed. She watched the lights of Natchez Under slide past her view and sighed, “Isn’t it romantic out here?”

“Yes, it is, love,” Dawson kissed the top of her blond head.

She murmured, “Dawson, what’s the name of your boat?”

“
The Nighthawk
,” he answered, his lips still on her hair.

“But I thought ships and boats were feminine, that you were supposed to give them women’s names. Why don’t you name it after a woman you care about?”

“Have anyone in mind?” he teased.

“Yes,” she said, a broad smile lighting her face, “I think you should name it after me.”

“My girl, the name will be changed tomorrow morning before she leaves port. From now and forever more, the name of this little vessel shall be
Diana Mine
.”

“Oh, Dawson, thank you,” she said, very pleased. Then the thought struck her that he must surely love her; he was going to name his boat after her, that would prove it to the whole world. If he loved her, then he surely must want to kiss her. Shyly she turned to face him. Dawson didn’t move, looked down at her tenderly, his arms still encircling her. She raised her hands to the black cloak covering his broad chest and looked up at him. His black eyes were studying her, the swarthy handsome face intent, thick black hair blowing softly in the wind, the sleek black moustache shiny above his full mouth. “Dawson,” she said coquettishly, “you know, I’ve never kissed a man with a mustache.”

He threw back his head and laughed loudly, his white teeth flashing. She frowned as she watched him and when finally he stopped laughing and spoke, he raised a hand from the railing and put his fingers under her chin, “Kathleen, you’ve never kissed any man, with or without a mustache.”

“How dare you, how do you know who I’ve …” The sentence was never finished. Dawson’s black, laughing eyes grew serious and he bent and covered her mouth with his, barely brushing her lips for a second.

“I’m glad you’ve never kissed a man before, honey, and if I have my way, you will never kiss any other but me.” Again his lips covered hers. He kissed her tenderly and the kiss lasted longer and slowly the hand gripping the ship’s railing came away and went to her back.

When he pulled away a little, Kathleen’s eyes were closed and she looked radiant. Slowly her lashes fluttered open and she looked up at him. “Oh, Dawson,” she whispered and her arms went around his neck. He pulled her even closer and she could feel his hard, muscled chest as he crushed her to him. Again he bent to kiss her and this time his demanding mouth parted her trembling lips. She grew faint and thought perhaps the motion of the boat was making her dizzy. He kept kissing her and when finally he raised his head, she gasped, “Dawson, I’m weak, I’m going to faint, to fall.”

His strong arms tightened around her and she could feel the violent trembling of his body as he stood against her. “No, you won’t, my darling, I’ve got you. I won’t ever let you go.” The old riverboat continued to slice through the icy waters of the Mississippi as the two lovers stood embracing in the cold night air.

Four

Dawson came to Sans Souci the next evening and when Kathleen heard him coming in the doors, she flew from the library to greet him. Mindless of her parents sitting just inside the drawing room, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth.

“Kathleen,” he whispered, gently pushing her away and looking around, “can’t you wait until we’re alone; what will your father think?”

She laughed and kissed him again and said in a voice loud enough for the entire household to hear, “Darling, Father knows I’m crazy about you, so I’m sure he’s figured out by now that you’ve kissed me and will do so again, so why not here in my house?”

Still unnerved, Dawson gently drew her arms away, cleared his throat, and walked with her into the drawing room.

“Daddy,” Kathleen laughed, “Dawson’s afraid you won’t like it if he kisses me. Tell him that’s foolish.”

Dawson’s swarthy face turned red and he looked at Louis to read his reaction. Louis Beauregard smiled, “Relax, Dawson, you know you’re always welcome here even if my beautiful daughter does insist on kissing you in the foyer of my home. Can I fix you a drink?”

Dawson returned the smile. “Thanks, no, Mister Beauregard, we really need to be getting on our way. We’re going to a party at a friend’s home and we’re late already.”

“I see, then you’d better run along. Do come back when you can stay longer. Why not come over tomorrow night for dinner? Abigail and I would love to have you, wouldn’t we, dear?”

“Yes, indeed. We would greatly enjoy your company, as well as that of Kathleen. We don’t seem to see her much since she met you.” She smiled at Dawson.

“Thank you. I’ll be happy to come over for dinner. Now, Kathleen, let’s get your coat and be on our way.”

Kathleen ran into the hall and came back carrying a long beige cape. She handed it to Dawson and he slipped it around her shoulders. She went to her father and kissed his cheek. “Goodnight. We’ll be back early and thanks for being such a darling father. You’re the best on earth.” Louis’ face broke into a broad grin and he watched her walk out with Dawson, blowing a kiss to them over her shoulder.

As soon as they were out the door, the smile on Louis’ face vanished and was replaced with a look of pure hatred. “The thought of that man being in this house, much less kissing my daughter, makes my blood boil.”

“I know, dear. I feel the same way. Why don’t you do something about it? When he’s here, you act like you’re pleased he’s escorting Kathleen. Why, you even invited him over for dinner. I don’t understand you; why don’t you put a stop to it? I’m afraid Kathleen is growing too fond of him. He is coming over more often all the time. I think it’s time you had a talk with her. Tell her how we feel about Mister Dawson Harpe Blakely.”

“Abigail, that wouldn’t be smart. If I forbid her to see him, she will only get upset with me and I couldn’t bear that. She’s just a child; she’s had crushes on boys before and gotten over them. She’ll get over this infatuation, too. You know how easily she gets bored with beaux when they stay around for a while. She’s always been that way. A new toy never entertained her for very long when she was a baby and it’s the same thing now. He’s a toy to her, but she’ll soon tire of him and toss him aside without a backward glance. We will just have to endure her whims for a while longer. I’m sure within a few weeks she’ll forget all about him.”

“Perhaps you’re right, dear, you usually are, but I still don’t see why, if you won’t forbid her to stop seeing him, you couldn’t have a talk with Blakely. Let him know how we feel about him calling on her.”

“It’s too risky. He would probably tell her and then she would be furious with me. I do not intend to lose the special relationship with my daughter over some Under the Bluffs scoundrel. She’ll tire of him soon and then she’ll just be Daddy’s little girl like she’s always been.”

“You embarrass me, Kathleen Beauregard,” Dawson said when he got her out the door.

“Good heavens, why, Dawson?” she smiled up at him.

“Look, Kathleen, I want your parents to approve of me. I’ve gone out of my way to reassure them I’m a gentleman with you and would never do anything out of line. Then you run into my arms and kiss me with them sitting in the next room. You bluntly tell you father that I’ve been kissing you when actually last night was the first time, though he’d never believe that now. How am I to make a good impression on them if you insist on misbehaving?”

“Dawson, you’re so silly. My father loves me and he wants me to have everything I want. He has always spoiled me. It’s that simple.”

“Yes, Kathleen, but what you want now happens to be me and I’m not so sure he wants you to have that.”

The party was at the manse of a friend Dawson had known for years. Kathleen had a good time and all who met her were charmed by her beauty and wide-eyed innocence. Dawson proudly introduced her and politely turned down dance invitations extended to her with a casual smile and a shake of his dark head. He was standing with his arm around her while she chattered and ask innumerable questions about everyone at the party. The party’s host approached them, smiling to Kathleen. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself, my dear, so glad Dawson brought you.”

“Thank you, Mister Carpenter, I’m having a lovely time,” she smiled at him sweetly.

“Dawson,” Chuck Carpenter turned to him, “I hate to ask you, but I really need to have a word with you.”

“No problem,” Dawson smiled, “what’s on your mind?”

“Well, actually, it’s rather, well it’s business. Kathleen would be bored. I wonder if I could borrow you for just a few minutes?”

“Certainly. Go on, Dawson, I’ll be just fine.”

“Look, Chuck, couldn’t this wait? I don’t want to leave her.”

“Dawson, it’s important, I have to talk to you. Here comes a special guest, she’ll be happy to keep Kathleen company while you’re gone.”

A tall, fair-haired girl approached them and smiled. She had overheard the last part of the conversation and said to Dawson, “Go on, Dawson, Kathleen and I haven’t had the chance to do any gossiping because you never let go of her. Let us catch up on a little girl talk.” Reluctantly, Dawson let himself be propelled into the other room, looking back over his shoulder at Kathleen as he went.