River Queen (20 page)

JULIENNE HAD BOUGHT A big old rectangular pine table with indifferent varnishwork, and twelve mismatched armless straight chairs, and this served as their dining table. During the first few crazy days on the
River Queen
,
they had no place to sit and eat, and Julienne, Carley, and Darcy had sat on the floor in Roseann’s stateroom while she and Leah sat in straight chairs with wooden trays to hold their meal. A dining room table had been one of at least a hundred things that Julienne had never thought she would have to go out and buy. Finally she had found the table and chairs in a junky, filthy little shop on the boardwalk and put it in the ballroom, close to the galley door. She also used it as a desk, struggling with the myriads of papers that had become her most burdensome daily chore. She hated it even worse than scrubbing.

After the
River Queen
had steamed for about an hour, they had returned to Natchez-Under-the-Hill, and to Julienne’s surprise they had pulled in right in the middle of the docks, instead of a half-mile downriver. “Surprise,” Dallas said to them, grinning. “New berth. I talked the harbormaster into charging us the same fee as down there in the wilderness.” Julienne was elated, until she looked up at the boardwalk. They were docked right in front of the Blue Moon Saloon.

After their cruise Julienne had asked Leah to help her with the accounts. To her surprise, her mother had said she would join them. All of them, even Darcy, had been immensely cheered up from the
River Queen
’s maiden voyage.

Now she and Leah and her mother sat at one end of the old scarred table, going over the details of running their home—a steamship, with a crew. “We can’t afford to keep buying all the kinds of food we’re eating right now,” Julienne was saying. “I’ve decided it would be best if we made out separate weekly menus and two shopping lists, one for us and one for the crew. They eat like ravening wolves, and it’s just impossible for us to keep buying meat for them.”

“What do you mean, Julienne?” Leah asked, frowning.

“It’s simple. We can’t afford as much meat as we’ve been buying, and such things as butter and sugar and fresh fruits and vegetables are expensive too, and we have to cut back. I think we should supply the crew with hardtack, rice, and potatoes—they’re pretty cheap—and eggs, though we’ll have to limit them, because I’ve seen Jesse eat six eggs at one sitting. Libby could make stews with our leftover vegetables, and maybe add tripe or chitlings. She told me that aside from being a bread or cracker or whatever hardtack is, it thickens stews nicely. And she said that sometimes the butcher has oxtails, and they’re cheap. Maybe every once in awhile the crew could have oxtail stew.”

Leah was staring at her incredulously, and even Roseann had dropped the embroidery hoop she was working to listen to her. Julienne grew uncomfortable. “What’s the matter? Both of you know what kind of shape we’re in. All of the things Mr. Bronte has had to buy for the
Queen
have cut way into our ready cash. We’re ready to haul freight, but we don’t have anything to haul yet, and he doesn’t know when we might get a load. Right now we have to skimp everywhere we can.”

“If I understand what you’re saying, the only ones skimping here are going to be the crew,” Leah said stiffly.

“Well, yes, Aunt Leah,” Julienne said, obviously mystified at her aunt’s testiness. “They work for us. They’re like our servants.”

“And so you’re putting Caesar and Libby on this hardtack stew diet too?” Leah demanded.

“No, of course not. They’re practically family,” Julienne replied impatiently. “But this steamboat crew is not. Mother, I apologize, I don’t really want to burden you with these things. But surely you agree that those men are not like us. Willem goes to the saloons or gambling or I-don’t-know-what every night. Ring’s not quite as bad, but it’s only because I don’t think he actually goes every single night.”

“But Jesse is a good Christian man,” Roseann put in gently.

“But he’s still not on our social level, and I don’t just mean because he’s black. I’m talking about the entire crew. They’ve been brought up in a world that we have nothing to do with, their lives are completely different, and their understanding of what life is. They know they can never be like people of our social status.”

Impatiently Leah made a wide circle with her hand, indicating the still-filthy empty ballroom, the broken windows, the scarred and rickety old table. “Do you really have any idea how ludicrous you sound, Julienne? Look at us! We’re not wealthy any more. We have to depend on the Lord for our daily bread, just like most everyone in the world.”

“But we’re different,” she protested. “People like us are different.”

To her surprise, her mother said strongly, “No, Julienne, we are not better than anyone else. I know that Charles and I brought you up encouraging that sort of thinking, but we were very wrong. I’ve been so sheltered all of my life, and it made me ignorant. I had no idea what the real world was like, and I knew nothing of people beyond my own small, insular circle. But those days are over for us, Julienne. We must stop being so criminally ignorant, and let the Lord teach us how to live with grace and charity toward others.”

Julienne fell silent, her mind whirling.

Leah spoke up, “And what about Mr. Bronte? After all he’s done for us, and in his behavior toward us, he has definitely shown that he is a gentleman and honorable, even though he’s not of our exalted circle of Splendid Persons. Are we putting him on bread and water, too?”

Julienne’s eyes narrowed and she started fidgeting with the stub of a pencil she held. “You don’t know him, Aunt Leah, not really. Besides, our deal was that we offered him a wage and room and board. Evidently he’s not boarding here, and I’m assuming he’s getting other—necessities—wherever it is he’s living.”

“Mr. Bronte certainly is living here, and he eats what we provide,” Leah said vehemently. “I’m surprised you know so little about him, and the crew. Do you know where he sleeps? Down on the main deck, behind the engine room, in the stifling hot crew quarters, in one of those narrow bunks. Have you even seen that horrible cranny they call their quarters? And he eats down there with them, on a board set on two sawhorses, and they pull up old empty crates to sit on.”

Julienne’s eyebrows winged upward, and her dark eyes widened. “What? But we offered him the captain’s cabin, across from Mother’s stateroom, and he turned it down! I thought—I thought—” She stammered into silence.

Roseann looked confused and upset, but Leah was watching Julienne knowingly, and asked, “You do know why Mr. Bronte turned down the stateroom, don’t you? Because he doesn’t have the money to buy a bed. And no, he didn’t tell me that. It only makes sense, because I know what we’re paying him. And I know what he does with that money too. He’s bought a fishing pole and hooks for Carley, and he bought a couple of extra lanterns for the crew so they could have more lights in the quarters at night, and maybe it escaped your attention but he’s the one that bought those peaches yesterday.”

Julienne stared at her.
He’s not been staying at the Blue Moon? But I was so sure! What’s wrong with me? Do I always want to think the worst of him because he—he—No! I’m not even going to think about that again! I’ve just got to forget about that awful night we were together. It’s making me act like a crazy woman!

Finally she shook her head a little to clear it, then said in a subdued voice, “No, I didn’t know all of that. But still, Aunt Leah, everything I’ve said about trying to figure out the food budget is true. We really do have to cut back.”

Roseann said, “I understand what you’re saying, Julienne, but I believe we can figure out menus that we can all share. I know I may not have much practical experience, but you and Leah are smart. You can think of how we can all have good, nourishing food. Including the crew.”

“But how? I don’t see how we can afford good food for eleven people, not with the amount of money we have to spend,” she grumbled.

“That’s because you know about as much about a kitchen and cooking as I do about flapping my wings and flying,” Leah said tartly. “You and I will work together to get a figure to spend weekly on food, and then Libby and I will work on the menus and do the shopping.”

Picking up her embroidery hoop again, Roseann said sweetly, “I think Leah’s right, dear. Just think of it as one less thing that you’ll have to worry about.”

Oh, good,
Julienne thought with bitter sarcasm.
Now I’ll have much more time to worry about what Dallas Bronte is doing.

THE NEXT DAY NO one knew where Carley was at dinnertime, so Julienne went looking for her. She found her sitting at the back of the main deck, fishing. Julienne went to sit beside her. Carley’s feet were bare, and she dangled them over the side. “Aren’t you hungry?” Julienne asked. “We’ve got some soup and some ham.”

Carley made a face. “Yech, pea soup. It’s green. I don’t like it. Ham’s okay, but I decided to catch some catfish. I’m real hungry for catfish.”

“I see,” Julienne said gravely. “But since it may be awhile before you catch your fish and Libby gets it fried, how about if I go make you a ham sandwich? You can stay here and fish and eat.”

“Did Libby make some tomato catsup today?”

“I’m sure she did, since you ask for it no matter what we’re eating.”

“Then if you put some tomato catsup on my ham sandwich, that would be good.”

“All right, be back in a minute.” Julienne went into the galley and made what, to her, was a disgusting sandwich.

When she returned to where Carley sat, she saw that Jesse Allgood had come out on deck and was squatting down beside her. When Julienne walked up, he jumped to his feet. “Good evenin’, Miss Ashby. I was just talking to Carley about fishing.”

Julienne took her seat beside Carley again and handed her the sandwich. “It’s fine, Jesse. Maybe you have some fishing tips for her?”

Carley said, “I was telling him that I’m using chicken liver for bait. Darcy said it might be good to catch catfish with. But I’m not catching anything.”

Jesse said, “That there’s good bait, but you’re fishing at the wrong time, Miss Carley. You gotta fish nights for catfish.”

“At night? Don’t they sleep at night?”

“No, they eat at night. And the best way to catch a whole mess of ’em is to use throw lines.”

“What’s a throw line?”

“You tie a hook on the end of a line. You tie something heavy to make it sink, then you cut off a piece of it for a long tail end. It sinks down to the bottom. Pretty soon old mister catfish, he come around. He grabs it. You see your line jerking around, and you grab hold, and you pulls it in.”

“Will you show me how, Jesse?”

“I surely will, Miss Carley. But best time for catfishing is around midnight. You’re gonna have to ask your mama if you can stay up that late.”

Carley turned to look appealingly up at Julienne. “Can I please, Julienne? If you say I can, Mama won’t care. Please?”

Julienne smiled. “You know what, that sounds like a lot of fun. How about if we both let Jesse teach us how to fish for catfish about midnight tonight?”

Carley’s big blue eyes widened. “You mean it? You’ll fish with us?”

“I mean it,” Julienne said, rising. “I’m going to go right now and finish up my work so I can rest some this afternoon. And you need to rest too, Carley. Finish eating, wash up, and go take a nap. Okay?”

“Sure!” she said, yanking her pole out of the water and hopping up. “I’m going to go into the galley and get a pickle. A pickle would be good with this sandwich. Oh, boy, we’re going to have so much fun! And maybe we’ll catch lots and lots of catfish.”

“We will,” Jesse promised. “You just wait and see.” He took her fishing pole and went back through the main deck doors, and Carley scampered up the stairs.

Julienne was about to follow her, but then she saw Dallas coming up the gangplank and went to meet him. She noted that he had on his best clothes, a black frock coat, a white linen shirt with a high collar, a black tie, black-ironed trousers, and a black felt slouch hat. It was a warm day, and as she joined him he touched the brim, then took it off and wiped his brow.

“Hello, Mr. Bronte,” she said. “Rather warm today, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is, Miss Ashby,” he said, matching her formal tone.

Slowly they walked up to the railing on the main deck. “May I ask what’s bothering you, Mr. Bronte?” she asked hesitantly.

Dallas looked at her. “What makes you think something’s bothering me?”

“You don’t keep your thoughts secret very well. Your face gives you away.”

“I guess that’s why I lose money at poker,” he said glumly. “I’ve been to everyone I can think of on this river, but I haven’t been able to find us any freight.”

“You mean no one needs anything hauled right now?” Julienne asked with surprise.

A slight breeze stirred one of the damp thick curls on his forehead and he lifted his head as if to welcome it. Then he replied distantly, “No, it’s because of me, Miss Ashby. They don’t trust me because of my reputation.”

“But that all happened over a year ago, didn’t it? Surely all that scandal is old news. And you didn’t lose your pilot’s license.”