River Queen (17 page)

He grimaced. “I did spend one night and the next day at your house after we brought you home. It didn’t take long to see that you have a great family.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I was ill at the time, so I hadn’t really realized . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“Yes, you were sick, Miss Ashby. So sick your family was scared you might not make it. And then your father passed away. I know you must be in some terrible trouble.” He left it unsaid: that Julienne would never have come to him for any reason unless she was desperate.

“I am,” she sighed. “We are. My family. And I—I thought that maybe you might consider helping us. Captain Silas Plank recommended you for a—a project, you might call it.”

Dallas nodded. “Captain Plank, he’s a good man, a fine captain. I had the pleasure of working with him twice. Wish it could have been more.” A shadow of regret darkened his face, then he turned to Julienne. “So what is this project? How can I help the Ashby family?”

“It seems that the Ashby family owns a riverboat,” she said with an attempt at lightness. “It’s been out of service for three years, but we thought, and Captain Plank also thinks, that it may be possible for it to be renovated and put to work again.”

“Really?” Dallas said with surprise. “Where is she? What’s her name?”

“The
River Queen
. And she’s here. If I understood that little toad down at the harbormaster’s office, she must be right down at the end of the shoreline, around that bend.” Julienne pointed. They were making their slow way along the boardwalk fronting the saloons and gambling houses and brothels. It ended abruptly about fifty feet ahead, and some ancient steps led right down to the shore of the river. It curved around into a point, and Julienne thought the
River Queen
must be past that point.

“I’ve seen her,” Dallas said with quiet wonder. “I never boarded her, but I’ve seen her before, and wondered about her.”

Excited, Julienne said, “You have? How very odd! Would it be possible for us to go see her now?”

He frowned down at her skirt. “The bottom of your skirt would get filthy, and even though the shore has dried out some, you’re bound to have to wade through some stinking mud.”

“Not the first time,” she said in a low voice. His head whipped around to search her face, but she looked straight ahead and went on, “But that’s the only way, isn’t it? It’s too narrow, the buggy couldn’t get down there. Please, Dal—I mean, Mr. Bronte? You just have no idea how important this is to me.”

“Okay,” he relented. “It’s not far.”

They went down the shaky stairs carefully and stepped onto the shores of the Mississippi River. At this point the shore was about ten feet wide. Dallas was right, it didn’t have standing water, but Julienne’s heeled boots sunk about three inches into the ground with each step. Wordlessly she worked her way, keeping up fairly well with his long stride.

They rounded the point, and sure enough, the
River Queen
was moored right there. Julienne stopped in her tracks to look her over, and Dallas stood by her side, his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed, as he too searched the boat.

She had three decks, the main deck, the Texas deck, and the hurricane deck. She was midsized, with her stacks reaching about forty-eight feet high. Her paint had long ago peeled and faded. Once she had been a gleaming white with red trim, black stacks, and a bright red paddle wheel. The Texas deck and the hurricane deck had the remnants of a fence of white picket railings and gingerbread trim on the top, but many of the slats were missing and the white paint had faded to a leprous gray. Many of the stateroom windows were broken. Atop the hurricane deck the pilothouse was a plain square, but the roof was high-topped with curlicued corners and had once been painted red.

After Julienne had searched her for awhile, she thought that the
River Queen
looked shabby, neglected, and somehow sad. But she wasn’t the frightful wreck that Julienne’s mind had taunted her with. Curiously she looked up at Dallas.

Aware of her scrutiny, he said, “She doesn’t look too bad, actually. She’s not listing at all. That’s kind of surprising, considering that she’s been laid up for three years.”

“My father had some work done on her during the last three winters,” Julienne said. “He brought in some of the people from the plantation, and there was something about drydocking her to work on her hull.”

Dallas nodded. “Smart of him. Must have sanded her and varnished her and replaced any wood that might have been starting to rot.” He looked down at her. “But I can’t tell anything until I see the firebox and the engine.”

“The firebox? What’s that?”

“It’s just the boiler room; we have names for stuff just so people will think we’re real smart. Wait here.” He took off his coat and threw it on the ground.

Before Julienne could say a word, and to her amazement, he started wading out into the water to the boat, fully dressed. It was chest-high before he reached the tip of the main deck. Easily he pulled himself on board, then went to a stanchion and began loosening a rope.

“What are you doing?” Julienne called. “Decided to take a swim?”

“Only because I had to,” he answered. After the slack in the rope had been loosened, he started to slowly unwind the rope, wrapping it around his back and leaning back for leverage. Bit by bit he let the rope slip, and one of the long planks standing upright on the main deck—the landing stage—started lowering. “Stand back,” he warned her with gritted teeth.

Cautiously Julienne took a few steps back, and when the stage was about three feet above the shore, Dallas let it fall. It splashed mud everywhere, including on Julienne’s skirt. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s kinda heavy.”

“Never mind.” Picking up his jacket, she made her way across the landing stage onto the boat. It seemed steady enough. Handing his coat to him, he shrugged it back on. “Thank you. I wasn’t looking forward to wading out here,” she said.

“That’s not going to happen,” he said, then turned to go to the double doors that led into the main deck. There was a generous cargo bay, with four small windows on each side. “Have to fix those,” he murmured. Quickly he went to the far doors into the boiler room and threw them open. Julienne followed him and looked around. He was already peering closely at things, running his hands over pipes and drums and rubbing the dirt off some gauges. He paid special attention to two of the boilers. They were the only things that Julienne knew. They were big metal drums, with furnaces underneath and pipes coming out of them. Dallas muttered to himself, disappearing around behind the boilers and pipes.

Julienne supposed he had gone on to the farther engine room, but she really didn’t want to follow him. Everything in the room was filthy, with black oil, with crusted dirt, with black ash.

“I’m going upstairs,” she called.

He said something unintelligible.

Going to the side door, she went through it to the outside stairwell that led up to the Texas deck. The door there led into a big empty room, which Julienne knew must be a combination ballroom and dining room, such as had been on the
Columbia Lady
. Of course, there was no comparison. It was about a third of the size of that grand room. No double doors led out onto an exterior promenade. The windows, except for one, were broken. She smelled the sour, musty odor of mold and mildew, and looked down. The floor was black. She turned her shoe and dragged the edge across it for about an inch. Underneath she could see a yellowish wood, but the mildew was at least an inch thick.

Sighing, she went through the door at the back of the room on the left-hand side, into a galley that was not large and roomy, but was practical. An icebox, two cook stoves, and floor-to-ceiling shelving surrounded a long high worktable. Here, too, everything was the same dirty color of green-gray, even the walls.

A small side door led out toward the center of the boat, and Julienne went through it. It led into the hallway in the middle of the staterooms. Going to the first one and holding her breath, she went inside. Looking around, she was immediately depressed.

It was slightly larger than the one on the
Missouri Dream
. But it was absolutely filthy, and there was not a stick of furniture in it. The window was broken, and, peeping outside, she saw that the shutters were gone. The walls, floor, and especially the ceiling was solid black with mold.

She checked a couple of the others, and saw that they were in the same condition. Dully she counted; the
River Queen
had twenty-four staterooms, twelve on each side. At the end of the hallway, where the stairs led up to the hurricane deck, she paused. It seemed that the last two stateroom doors were much farther away from the stateroom doors before them. Curiously she opened the one on the left and saw with surprise that it was much larger than the other staterooms, though it was in the same squalid condition. Checking across the hall, she saw that the last stateroom was of the same generous size. For some reason this cheered her up a little.

Finally she went up on the hurricane deck and went to the pilothouse. The enormous wheel was there, long idle. Always there was a small bench in the back of the room, and Julienne sat down there, staring at the buttons, the levers, the bell pulls hanging from the ceiling. Staring out the wide window, she saw the river. On this difficult day it seemed kind, lazily flowing along, the late afternoon crimson sun glinting orange sparkles on the brown water. It was the first day she had seen the river since the wreck, and somewhat to her surprise it didn’t frighten her, or even make her sad. In a way watching it seemed to bring her some peace.

After what seemed a long time, Dallas came into the wheelhouse. Immediately he went to the wheel and laid his hands on it. Looking around, he said, “Amazing. All the bells and whistles on this little boat.”

Turning to Julienne, he answered the questions in her eyes. “It can be done. She’s a well-built boat, tight and snug. Two of the boilers will have to be replaced, and some of the machinery, but the engine itself is sound. But it’s going to take some money. How much do you have?” he asked bluntly.

Thoughtfully she answered, “We have some, but there are some decisions that we have to make about how exactly we can spend it. Right now my Aunt Leah and I are pretty much making all those kinds of decisions.” She looked up at him earnestly. “Ordinarily I couldn’t imagine letting a stranger know about our personal business. But as I told you, Mr. Bronte, this is a different time, and my family is in a completely different situation than we were a month ago. So I’m asking you, would you please come meet with my family? Talk to them, explain to them about the
River Queen
? And then, Aunt Leah and I will try to work out an agreement between us. But until you’ve spoken to my family, I’d prefer not to discuss details yet.”

Harshly he said, “I have to tell you, Miss Ashby, that I have a reputation on this river, and it’s not a good one. People say I’m a drunk, and that I’m the worst kind of pilot there is because I’m irresponsible. Maybe even criminally irresponsible. Your family needs to know that.”

“They do,” Julienne said quietly. “As do I. Will you come speak to them, please?”

He looked surprised and pleased, and instantly said, “I will. And I’ll tell you right now, Miss Ashby. I feel like I owe you, and your family. No, no, please don’t argue, and I know you don’t want to talk about our past, and that’s fine. All I’m saying is that I can help you, and I will.”

The family sat staring at Dallas, who was still wet. His clothes were rough, and his hair needed cutting. Julienne had called them all in. For once, Darcy was home. After he had found out that they were losing the house and the plantation, he had generally stayed out getting drunk every night, and sleeping all day. But since Leah had told him about the
River Queen
, he had hung around, waiting to find out about it.

Julienne didn’t waste words. “Mr. Bronte has looked at the boat, and he says it can be fixed. If it can be fixed, it can be put into service again. But I’ll let him tell you about it.”

Dallas rubbed his jaw, and because he hadn’t shaved that day, the whiskers bristled. “The
River Queen
is sturdy, and she’s always been fast. With some work she can be a tough, hardworking boat, hauling freight. And there’s money to be made on that. Every boat that hits Natchez can fill it up with cotton in harvest time. Other seasons, there are other things, you can pick up mail freight, tools, farming equipment, cattle.”

Darcy frowned. “I don’t remember much about it when Father had it, but I thought the
River Queen
had staterooms, and a dining room. What about passengers?”

Dallas shrugged. “It would take a whole lot more money to get her into shape for passengers. Right now you’d do much better to fill up that ballroom with freight.”

“And there’s another thing about the staterooms,” Julienne said with determination, glancing at Leah, who nodded encouragingly. “If we invest in the
River Queen
, we won’t have enough money to buy another house. Aunt Leah and I think that we should live on the boat, and we’ve explained to Mother, and she agrees with us. There are plenty of staterooms, and though they’re in bad shape, they can be cleaned up.”