Wronged (The Cuvier Widows Book 1) (13 page)

“I rather like this hat.”

“Suit yourself. Reminds me of a pink
chicken.”

“Never seen one myself. Do you get these
visions often or just when you’ve imbibed too much?” she asked.

He turned and gazed at her, a coy smile of
mischief on his face. “Oh, I do think I’m going to enjoy spending
some time on the docks with you.”

She smiled. “Is the buggy here?”

“Yes,” he said, the word clipped short.

“Then let’s go.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said holding the door open
for her as she strolled out into the warm sunshine.

When they reached the buggy, he helped her
into the vehicle, climbed in after her, and took the reins from
Jon.

He thanked the man and slapped the reins
gently on the back of the horse as the buggy began to slowly roll
down the street. They were within blocks of the docks and often
Marian passed them on her way to the office.

As they traveled down the road, the horse’s
hooves clop-clopped against the stones in the road.

“Tell me exactly what you’re going to show me
today,” Marian questioned, noticing the way the wind tousled his
short brown hair.

“Well, I thought first I would introduce you
to the crew of the
Natchez
and the ship’s captain. I thought
the captain could explain to you what his crew does. Afterwards, I
thought we might have lunch somewhere before returning to the
office.”

“All right,” she said. Even though he had
agreed to teach her all about the business, she was still wary of
his motives.

They turned the corner onto Canal Street and
she could see by the merchandise piled on the wharves that the port
of New Orleans was extremely busy.

Different colored flags stood beside the
piles of merchandise and cargo. Marian stared at the men who
bustled around tossing sacks of grain and heaving bundles of cotton
onto the ships.

“What are the flags for?” she questioned.

“That’s how the stevedores, the men who load
and unload the ships, locate their cargos. Each company has its own
flag and that guides the stevedores to where the cargo is either
waiting to be loaded or needs to be transferred to the warehouse,”
he said pointing out the workers who were carrying large sacks on
their heads.

“I know our principal cargo is sugar and
cotton, but there has to be more here than just those crops,” said
Marian.

Louis leaned closer to her. “The bags that
man has on his head are filled with coffee beans. Then there are
the banana boats that come in from Latin America and one of our
newest customers, The United Fruit Company, is about to vie with
Mr. Morgan for the top spot in our company.”

Marian turned and stared at Louis, the
question that had troubled her most recently on her lips. “From the
looks of the docks, I’d say business is booming. Then, why do you
seem eager to sell Cuvier Shipping?”

He pulled on the reins until the buggy came
to a halt, and he set the brake. Then he turned to face her. “The
industry is going through some changes. Since the war, the docks of
New Orleans have been in pitiful shape. The dockage fees are higher
than in the larger ports, and we’re no longer a main port for
business; plus the steamboat is dying. The twentieth century will
be upon us soon and I want to do something different.”

She felt a trickle of fear and for the first
time wondered if she were doing the right thing by holding tight to
the family business. Yet how could she trust Louis to tell her the
truth? Could this be just another tactic to scare her into staying
away from the business or, even better, into selling everything to
him?

“Well, from all the cargo I see, things don’t
look that bad.”

“You’re absolutely right. But you’ve just had
your first lesson about shipping. Now let’s go meet Captain Pool
and let him give you your second lesson.”

Louis climbed down from the buggy and came
around to help her alight. As he went to lift her out of the small
vehicle, she felt a sharp tug on the bottom of her skirt as she
tripped. For a brief second she was afraid as she felt herself
falling. Then Louis caught her and held her tightly as her body
slammed full into his arms, her breasts smashing against his chest,
her face mere inches from his.

A feeling of safety overcame her as she gazed
up into blue eyes that shone brighter than an early morning sky.
Feeling his chest beneath her own beating heart was warm and
somehow right

“Oh my,” she said, unable to look away,
feeling breathless as she stared deep into those fathomless blue
eyes.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his deep voice
tender.

“Yes,” she managed to say as she lingered for
just a moment, the feel of his embrace warm, comforting.

With a start she realized her skirt draped
from the buggy to herself, exposing the back of her limbs in an
embarrassing exhibit of pantaloons.

She stepped out of his arms and tried to pull
down the offensive garment, but the snag was out of her reach
leaving her exposed to the men on the docks.

The sound of catcalls resounded and Marian
felt her face begin to flame. She had just made her entrance into
this manly world in a definitely unique way. One that wouldn’t win
her acclaim for her talented business skills, but rather for her
more earthy gifts that she’d obviously never known she possessed
before.

Realizing her problem, Louis stepped forward,
blocking the view of her lace pantaloons from the men on the
dock.

“Get back to work,” he barked at them in a
voice that brooked no argument.

Then he leaned around her, unhooking the hem
that had become snagged.

With her cheeks burning with embarrassment,
she brushed the skirt back into place and lifted her chin. “Thank
you.”

“My pleasure,” he said, his blue eyes wide,
his pupils dancing with a mischievous light, though he was
gentlemen enough not to mention the fact that every man on the
dock, including himself, could now describe, in colorful detail,
her undergarments.

She took a deep breath and slowly released it
to gather her wits, while he stood waiting for her.

He held out his arm. “Shall we?”

“Of course,” she replied, still feeling
somewhat unnerved by her ghastly exhibition.

They walked to the waiting boat where men
loaded bags of coffee beans on a flatboat barge and gawked at the
sight of a woman. The dockworkers’ language was coarse and colorful
as they shouted to one another, until they realized a lady stood in
their midst.

“I thought we had only steamships?” she
questioned.

“No our fleet has both steamships and
flatboats. The steamers are slowly disappearing and we needed the
flatboats for the smaller loads we haul up and down the
Mississippi.”

“Oh,” she said feeling like there was so much
she didn’t yet know. Jean had never shared any details of the
business and she felt so inept. But she would learn everything she
could, even down here on the docks. Even at the risk of almost
falling on her face or exposing her limbs.

Then she saw the man who had greeted her the
very first day she had appeared at the office. “Oh no, that’s
Captain Paul. I thought you said we were meeting Captain Pool?”

“Pool, Paul.” Louis frowned. “The names are
so similar. I forgot I’m sorry, it slipped my mind about your
earlier meeting. If you’d feel more comfortable with someone else,
we could do this another day.”

Marian gave Louis a quick glance. Had he
really forgotten about their previous meeting or could this be a
new tactic to frighten her away?

“Not a problem. I’m sure we’ll get along just
fine,” she said, determined that before she left this boat, Captain
Paul would be her friend.

They crossed the gangplank, the sound of
their footsteps echoing against the wood.

“Mrs. Cuvier,” Captain Paul called. “Welcome
aboard.”

Well, at least he wasn’t calling her darling,
she thought as she stepped on board the rocking flatboat

“Thank you,” she said trying to find her
balance on the moving deck, the feel of Louis’s strong hand beneath
her elbow lending support. If she distrusted him so, why did the
touch of his hand feel so comforting?

“So what are you here to learn?” the Captain
asked.

“Everything that you think I should know. I
want to understand the business from beginning to end,” she
replied, her voice growing excited at the prospect. “And I hope
that you’ll be your bluntly honest self.”

The Captain grinned. “I always am, Ma’am.
This time, though, I’m not suffering from a bloody awful
hangover.”

“Good. I’ll remember to ask next time how
you’re feeling. You can be quite nasty, Captain.”

He smiled and then began to explain to her
the different deck hands and their rank and file onboard, and how
each hand was responsible for a certain job on the boat.

Captain Paul strode across the deck and
Marian gingerly followed him, Louis at her side, touching her elbow
with his fingertips when he thought she needed a steadying hand.
Captain Paul described the different parts of the boat, making
clear what starboard meant and what a masthead was, how most days
the sails were what got them down the mighty Mississippi. He then
went on to explain about the different cargos and how the larger
ships traveled up the coastline into either Charleston or Boston
ports.

After the man had talked for over thirty
minutes, Marian glanced at Louis who stood beside her frowning.

For some reason, he didn’t appear
pleased.

“Well, Ma’am, I don’t know what else to tell
you. I could spend a lot more time givin’ you the tiny details of a
voyage on this here boat, but some things are better experienced.
Mr. Fournet should take you out for a ride sometime in one of the
company boats,” said Captain Paul.

“That’s an excellent idea. I would love to
today, but I’ve already taken up so much of your time,” she
said.

“Can’t do it today, Ma’am, as we need to
shove off here in a few minutes. I see the boys have finished
loadin’ and we must be gone.”

Marian smiled at the Captain. “You know we
may not have gotten off to a great start, but you’ve been downright
gracious to spend all this time with me. I really do appreciate it,
Captain Paul.”

“My pleasure, Ma’am.”

“Well, we best be going so that you can get
underway.” She started for the gangplank that led back to shore.
“Come on, Louis.”

“So long,” the Captain called.

Marian reached the gangplank and walked
across it to dry ground. Louis stayed close to her side.

She smiled at him. “This was a great idea,
Louis. It’s turned out to be a wonderful day and I’ve learned so
much about the business. I even made friends with Captain Paul
now!” She paused and noticed he didn’t seem quite as happy. “Thank
you.”

“You bet,” he replied, tardy.

She glanced at him and noticed the tightness
around his mouth and eyes. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” he responded. “We need to get
back!”

***

That afternoon Louis sat in his office
feeling grumpy, unable to believe the woman had turned an outing
planned to be uncomfortable for her into a wonderful day. Even when
her skirt had gotten caught on the buggy, she’d somehow managed to
make that appear as nothing to get upset about. Didn’t women get
the vapors anymore? What happened to the females who were timid and
shy and fainted at an unmentionable word?

Marian never had appeared embarrassed or the
least bit intimidated. And somehow she’d made friends with the
meanest captain in his crew. Louis hated what he was doing and how
he was acting, but if he wanted his dream, he had somehow to daunt
her interest in the business.

“Mr. Fournet, may I speak with you?”

Louis glanced up from the papers he was
reading on his desk, and noticed the man standing in the doorway.
It was after five o’clock, and most people had already left for the
day. He glanced across the hallway and noticed that Marian was
gone.

“Come in,” Louis said. He motioned to the man
to sit across from him. “What can I do for you?”

“My name is Richard Vanderhom and I am the
leader of the United Dockworkers Association, here in New
Orleans.”

Louis felt his body stiffen at the mention of
the new union that had recently been formed.

“We’re contacting all of the shipping
companies that we do business with to let you know our demands. We
don’t want a work stoppage, but most of us haven’t had a raise in
years and we work six, sometimes seven, days a week.”

The man held his cap in his hands, twisting
it nervously as he sat stiffly in the chair across from Louis.

“The men have asked me to let you and the
other owners know that we’d like a ten-cent-an-hour raise, with a
week’s paid vacation a year, and paid holidays.” He paused. “We
don’t feel like we’re asking for much, but we’re serious. If our
demands are not met, then we will walk off the job in thirty
days.”

Louis sat back in his chair and stared at the
man he felt was trying to intimidate him. He let the man wait,
while he stared at him. In the last five years, unions had sprung
up all over the city.

“What makes you think I have the money to
give every man a raise? Plus a week off and paid holidays?” He
leaned back. “You’re talking a hundred workers and thousands of
dollars. If your workers haven’t noticed, we aren’t receiving as
many shipments as we were before the war. The docks are in bad
shape and most people are now shipping directly into Boston and
Charleston rather than New Orleans.”

“We have families, sir.”

“I understand and I sympathize. But business
is decreasing and until the city decides to restore the wharf we’re
losing out to other cities that have better docks.” He paused. “I
suggest you go back and tell your men that they should be thankful
they have their jobs.” The man drew himself up. “I’ll go back and
tell them what you said, but I can tell you they’re not going to be
happy. I’m sure this won’t be the end of this.”