The Husband Season (28 page)

Something changed, and Maddie glanced up. Strangely there was a momentary part in the clouds. The moon, as big, round and right as she'd ever seen, peeked through and shone down on her. Her heart skipped several more beats as she glanced back toward the rowboat. Still cautious, she asked, “How much will it cost me?”

“Nothing.”

It was the first time she got a good look at Lucky's face. Kind of long, with a square, clean-shaven jaw. It was his eyes that caught her attention. Even in the fog they twinkled as if that was where the stars were, instead of high above the clouds where nobody could see them. She glanced up again. The moon was gone. No stars, either.

“Come on, Maddie,” Lucky coaxed. “I promise you're safe with me. You'll be safe all the way to Seattle.”

There were no others mingling around, no one to hear if she shouted, unless perhaps Mad Dog or his men—if they had followed. She wanted to believe Lucky, climb down and escape this town and all the dangers it held, yet caution had been her constant companion for years. “How do you know I don't have family here?” she asked. “Someone looking for me. Right now, even. Who'll hunt you down, along with Ridge.”

His smile made those eyes twinkle brighter. “If you had family, you wouldn't have been fetching water for Hester.”

A splattering of hope rose inside her. “You know Hester?” The older woman had assisted Maddie in escaping Mad Dog's clutches once before and had promised a permanent escape would happen soon.

“That's why I was at the saloon,” he said.

The air left her lungs in a gush. “It is?”

“Yes. I'm the rescue Hester promised.”

Relief filled Maddie. That explained why Hester had sent her out to fetch water tonight. This was her chance, and she had to take it. “Why didn't you say so?”

He made some kind of reply, but already swinging around, Maddie didn't hear exactly what. She was too busy willing her heart to stay in her chest as she lowered closer to the water. Wet and slippery, the ladder wasn't easy to navigate. A wave of reprieve rushed over her when a firm hold took her by the waist, lifting her the last few feet.

The boat rocked as Lucky guided Maddie to sit on one of the wide boards. Then he flipped a blanket over her head and shoulders before he sat down opposite her and grasped the handles of the oars.

Though already damp, the blanket didn't offer warmth, but did block the wind, and Maddie repositioned it, grasping both corners beneath her chin. Her thoughts went to the two younger girls that Hester had ushered into the attic late last night. When Lucky started to row, she asked, “What about the others?”

“I was just sent after you, but don't worry, if Hester promised them an escape, it'll happen.” He made several more big circles with both arms at the same time, moving the boat through the water, before asking, “Are they friends?”

“No,” Maddie admitted. “I don't even know their names.” Just as she hadn't known the names of the other girls that had come and gone within hours the past few days. Hester had said it would take time to get her out of town, considering her previous encounters with Ridge's men. They hadn't been just run-ins, they'd been escapes. Maddie escaping, that was. Three times, in three different towns. She still didn't know how Hester had learned about her or knew to meet her at the edge of town, but the woman had, and she'd done exactly as promised.

Maddie's happiness faltered. As badly as she wanted to escape Mad Dog, she didn't want to go as far as Seattle. There was no gold there. It was here. In California. That was what Maddie wanted. Gold. Enough so she'd never be hungry again. Never be cold or scared or homeless or penniless. And with enough gold, she could go someplace Mad Dog would never find her.

“Where are you from?”

Maddie lifted her head and questioned answering. The less anyone knew the better. “East of here.”

His laugh was quick. “Everything is east of California. Where were you born?”

Her memories didn't start until Wyoming, then Montana, Texas, Arizona. She even remembered a hut down in Mexico. Thus was the life of an outlaw. Until Colorado, where they'd run across Smitty, prospecting high in the hills. Her father had left her with him instead of dragging her along to the next train, stagecoach or bank that Bass thought he needed to rob. That had been five years ago. “Kansas,” she said. At least that was what she'd been told.

Cole couldn't say she was lying, and he couldn't blame her for being evasive. She wasn't the first girl he'd been assigned to collect from Hester. She was the last, though. He'd helped with several escapes and liked the adventure of it, but Ridge had caught sight of him last year, and that could jeopardize future rescues. The loss of this woman would bother the outlaw. Her black hair and mature figure, which Cole had tried to ignore since pulling her up behind the saddle, would bring a high price. That was what Ridge counted on. The lovelier, the more expensive.

It was a good thing this would be the last trip for the
Mary Jane
this far south for a while. Ridge had too many eyes on the shore to not put two and two together.

“How old are you?” Cole asked.

“Nineteen.”

She was certainly older than the thirteen-and fourteen-year-old ones he was used to moving north, but he'd guess her no more than sixteen. “There's no need to lie to me.”

Pulling the corners of the blanket tighter beneath her chin, her blue eyes glistened as she snapped, “I'm not lying.”

It didn't matter one way or the other, and Cole decided to let it go. “What brought you to California?”

“Gold.”

She hadn't hesitated in her answer, but it was the gleam that instantly appeared in her eyes that he recognized. Knew exactly what it was like. There wasn't another word that affected him like that one did. Gold. Just thinking about it got his blood racing, his heart pounding. He had the fever. Caught it last year, but he didn't let it rule him. Instead, he let it drive him. And it had. All winter. He was now set, had everything lined up, and before long he'd be gathering up more gold than most men only dreamed about. He knew where to find it. Maybe that was why he told her, “There's no gold in California, darling.”

“Yes, there is,” she argued.

“None a man can freely claim.” He wasn't trying to disillusion her. It was something he knew for a fact. The money being made in California was off the miners, not by mining. It was that way other places, too. He just knew where the odds were better.

Her lips were pinched tight and her chin had jutted up a notch.

“Alaska,” he said, thinking of his destination. “That's where the gold is.”

“That,” she said sternly, “is a wives' tale. Alaska's nothing but frozen tundra.”

“Now, who told you that?”

“No one in particular.”

“Well, go right on believing that, darling. You and the rest of the world.” It would leave more for him to find. Tales of discovering gold in Alaska had spread along the coast for years, and prospectors made their way there only to return saying the same thing she did—mainly because they didn't know where to look. He, on the other hand, did. Those thoughts had him slowing the speed of which he rowed. The
Mary Jane
had to be close, and in this fog he might row smack-dab into her side.

“You've seen it?” she asked. “Alaska? Gold?”

“Yes, darling, I've seen it.” Something blocked the wind, and he had no doubt it was Uncle Trig's ship. Paddling slow until he could make out the ropes hanging down, he said, “We're here.”

The rowboat bumped the big hull of the
Mary Jane
. Cole caught a rope and pulled the little boat beneath the ladder. “You have to climb up first this time. But don't fret, I'll be right behind you.”

There was caution in her eyes, but not fear, and he liked that. He'd had to carry more than one young girl up the rope ladder, which wasn't easy. She tucked the blanket under the bench seat and carefully maneuvered to the ladder. He waited until she was well on her way to the top before he tied the side ropes to the rowboat so it could be lifted out of the water by the pulleys once he arrived on the deck of the big ship.

Uncle Trig was at the top and two shipmates were already hoisting up the rowboat when Lucky climbed over the edge.

“Everything go all right?” his uncle asked.

“Yes,” Cole answered. “No problems at all.”

“Did you see Jasmine?” Trig wanted to know.

“Who do you think motioned me when the time was right?” Cole slapped his uncle on the shoulder. “She's as lovely as ever.” Long ago Jasmine had been shanghaied from some foreign coastal town much like Ridge was doing to innocent girls, and though she was now the madam of a similar business, she believed girls should choose to work that profession, not be forced into it. Trig had once been a steady customer of Jasmine's, and though Cole felt there was more—that his uncle had fallen in love with the woman—neither Jasmine nor Trig ever proclaimed anything but friendship. They were cohorts, though, in slipping girls out of town right under Ridge's nose. Although neither of them would admit to that, either.

“I'm sure she is,” Trig answered.

“How'd you know about this one?” Cole asked. They'd barely arrived in port when his uncle told him of the mission. Usually there'd been cargo to load or unload and he'd always assumed word had been sent during that time. This time, glancing toward Maddie standing near the wheelhouse, he was curious to know how Trig knew Hester—Jasmine's housekeeper—had this girl hidden and ready for an escape.

“Two lanterns.” Trig waved a hand in the general direction of Cole's gaze. “I hung a hammock in my cabin for you to bunk with me until we get to Seattle.”

That wasn't new, either. He often gave up his sleeping space for the girls, but not satisfied with his uncle's answer, Cole questioned, “Two lanterns?”

“If there's only one, all is well. If there're two, we're needed.”

“Where?”

“Warehouse number seven.” Trig, his skin wrinkled and weathered from the sun and sea, squinted thoughtfully. “You thinking about changing your plans?”

Cole shook his head. “You know I'm not. Sailing's been profitable, but not enough to cover what the family needs now. Robbie's waiting in Seattle. He'll take over the rescues.” There was a fleeting ounce of regret inside Cole, for he had enjoyed the past four years with his uncle, sailing the seas, mainly the West Coast. They had gone around the cape once and back again. That had been his greatest adventure so far—and most profitable. The funds he'd acquired from buying and selling highly sought after merchandise had allowed him to send a considerable sum home. Yet as much as that had been, he'd heard the family needed a whole lot more. Trig had contributed, too, but the hurricane that had wiped out the family shipyard and warehouses west of New Orleans had done a number on the entire coast, and his uncles back home said Gran was struggling to rebuild the family empire to its former glory.

Cole had set his hope and goal on gold. It would show to his mother that following in his father's and grandfather's footsteps had been the right choice, and prove every man had his own fortune to seek. If his mother had her way, Cole and his brother would still be living under her roof, married to the women she'd handpicked.

He'd left, though, to his mother and Rachel's dismay. So had Robbie. His younger brother by three years had escaped their mother's clutches two years ago, just as Cole had three years before that. It wasn't that they didn't love their mother, just that a man has to live his own life. Gran knew that, and said it, though their mother never listened. Gran had seen through Rachel, too. Even before he had.

Cole let his thoughts skip right over Rachel, as he had for years now. He was glad Robbie had joined him and Trig. It was his brother's turn now to learn the ins and outs of being a sea merchant. He'd stepped off the ship last fall to spend the winter in Seattle in order to drum up cargo he thought they could make a profit from. Trig had given instructions, just as he'd given Cole the first time he'd let him wander on his own, striking deals.

It had been then, when they'd dropped off Robbie, that they'd heard about the hurricane—a message had greeted them when they'd arrived in port. His father's other two brothers, though neither had been overly involved in the shipping industry, had sent a wire saying everything had been lost, but Gran was insistent upon rebuilding.

That was the other reason he needed to find gold, and lots of it: Gran. She'd dedicated her life to the shipping industry and had used her profits to see her sons set up in businesses, and now, as life was catching up with her, she deserved to have her family come together in order for her to rebuild her one true love. DuMont Shipping.

As kids, he and Robbie had loved spending time at her place. They'd sneak away from the house to pretend they were sailors, maneuvering little rowboats around the bayou, both of them dreaming of the day they'd join their father or Uncle Trig on the seas. Their mother had been dead set against that and whipped them soundly the one time she'd discovered where they'd been and what they'd been doing. She'd forbidden them from spending nights at Gran's after that. Even as a young child he'd been torn between the adventures calling him inside and the pain of seeing his mother cry, claiming the sea had stolen her husband. She'd cried when he'd left, too.

Cole sighed. He hadn't wanted to hurt her, but the calling had grown too strong, and now, well, now he had to save the family business. A man lucky enough could make money in Alaska—lots of it, and that was what he needed.

With another friendly slap to Trig's shoulder, and more determined than ever that Alaska was where he needed to be, Cole took a step. “I'll show our guest to her cabin.”