River Queen Read online

  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.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  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.”

  Darcy’s cloudy blue eyes widened. “Live on a boat? Are you insane, Julienne? The Ashbys live on some rotten little tub on the river?”

  Her mouth tightened. “Aunt Leah and I have discussed this, Darcy. Both of us think that for right now, at least, it’s the best possible solution.”

  “Well, I don’t think it’s any solution at all!” he almost shouted. “It’s ridiculous, and embarrassing. What are our friends going to think? We’ll just be river rats!”

  “Our real friends will be friends, no matter where we live,” Leah said. “And if they don’t like where we live, then they probably aren’t our real friends anyway.”

  “I don’t care,” Darcy blustered. “I’m not going to do it. I refuse to live on some rundown stinking riverboat.”

  A short silence followed this, but finally Julienne said in a tight voice. “Very well. We have to be out of the house in two weeks. I suggest you find some lodgings before then.”

  “You know I don’t have any money. All this money you and Aunt Leah are talking about, how is it that I’m not seeing any of it? If you would be fair, and give me my share, I’d be out of here so fast all you could see is my tailcoat flapping out the door,” he said sulkily.

  Julienne let out a dry laugh. “If I gave you a fair share, Darcy, all you would get is thousands of dollars worth of debts. You’ve taken no part in helping me and Aunt Leah trying to figure out what to do, so you’ve no right to criticize the decisions we make. We can offer you a home, and food, and the love of our family. That’s what all of us are getting out of this. It’s your decision whether to stay with us or not.”

  “Not much of a choice,” Darcy said, then looked away.

  Carley piped up, “Darcy, it’ll be fun! We can fish all the time! I want to live on the River Queen. Maybe I can learn to be a pilot like Dallas!”

  “You probably could, you’re a pretty smart little girl,” Dallas said.

  “And a good girl,” Julienne said. “Most of the time. Now, there are about a hundred details that Mr. Bronte and Aunt Leah and I need to work out. Mother, are you all right?”

  “Yes, dear,” she said. “I’m feeling so much better now that things are settled. And, Mr. Bronte, I’m so very grateful to you for helping us. It’s such a comfort to me.”

  He looked embarrassed and said, “I need the work, ma’am. So it’s helping me too.”

  THE NEXT TWO WEEKS were dizzying to Julienne, she was so busy. But she welcomed it. The full days, often stretching into working evenings, kept her mind occupied and she was able to push back so much of the sorrow she felt from the loss of Tyla and her father, and the lingering shame that still burned her when she dwelt upon Dallas Bronte too much.

  But his attitude, his helpfulness, and the particular care he had taken of her entire family—except for Darcy—had raised her spirits immensely. Every time he came to the house he took time to sit with her, tell her funny little stories about the river, ask about her needlework, and admired whatever it was she was making. He tried to make time to go outside with Carley, so she could show him rocks or bugs or the flowers that were blooming, and a couple of times he let her climb high up into a tree, then fetched her down. He showed Aunt Leah the highest respect, and often deferred to her, along with Julienne, about the dozens of decisions that must be made about the River Queen.

  And mostly when he came, he met with Julienne and Aunt Leah about business. After they had explained to him about their finances, he had worked hard to get estimates on replacement parts and equipment for the River Queen. They had finally agreed that they must spend at least two thousand dollars to get her steaming again. When Dallas understood what a hardship this was for them, at first he had refused any payment at all, insisting that if they would let him have room and board on the Queen, that was all that he needed. But both Julienne and Leah insisted that he at least take a wage that was comparable to a farmhand, which was forty-six cents a day. Reluctantly he agreed. Later they found out that he spent almost all of it on food, or some gadget for the Queen, or, more often, treats for Carley.

  Preston Gates had found a buyer for the house, and almost shamefacedly he added that the buyers were interested in the furniture. The parlor furnishings were imported from France, the paintings in the parlor were also French, and many of the fine accessories. The dining room table was Spanish and was two hundred years old, and still had all fourteen of the matching ornate plush-seat chairs. All of their sideboards and side tables were of fine walnut, and many of the side chairs were of maple and cherry, made by American craftsmen. Carley’s, Darcy’s, and Julienne’s beds were relatively new, all spindled four-posters of oak. All of these things Julienne gladly sold, to Gates’s surprise. The buyers offered them one thousand dollars for the lot, and though Charles had paid much more for them, she was glad to get it so simply, without trying to barter off piece by piece. The only things she kept were her parents’ bed, chest, and armoire, which had been Julienne’s great-great grandfather’s.

  Now Julienne, Leah, Roseann, Libby, and Caesar were packing up their belongings and gathering up the few pieces of furniture, mostly from the sitting room, that they had decided to keep. Julienne was packing Carley’s books.

  “Can I take this chair, Julienne?” Julienne looked down and saw that Carley had picked up a small chair. Once it had been painted bright blue, but it had faded to a dull grayish-blue with age.

  “It won’t fit you very long,” Julienne said. “It’s for little children.”

  “I don’t care. I want to keep it because Tyla gave it to me. It was hers, you remember?”

  And there, the pain struck Julienne again. Every day, it seemed, something happened to hurt her, to bring to the forefront of her mind the pain and sorrow she had suffered. But she reflected that each day, each time, the pain lessened just a little. Now she managed a smile and said,
“No, I had forgotten that. Of course you can take it. We can set your dolls in it.”

  “Maybe Dallas will teach me how to paint,” she said happily. “I want it to be blue again. Where is he? I’m going to go ask him.”

  “He’s gone for a few days, Carley. He heard about some things that we needed for the River Queen, and they’re up in Cairo. So he’s going to go try to buy them for us.”

  “I know where Cairo is,” Carley said proudly. “Illinois. I’ve been studying my maps with Aunt Leah.”

  This came as a big surprise to Julienne, who was about to question her more, when Libby came in. “There’s some men at the door, Miss Julienne. One of them said Mr. Bronte sent them.”

  “I’m coming,” she said, and hurried downstairs. Three men stood awkwardly in the foyer, fidgeting with their hats. As Julienne neared them, one—a husky, tanned man with sad hound-dog eyes—stepped forward. “Are you Miss Ashby? Dallas sent us to help you move onto the River Queen, ma’am. My name is Ring Macklin, this here is Willem Hansen, and that’s Jesse Allgood.” Hansen ducked his head. He was a tall, thickly built Swede with thin blond hair and light blue eyes. Jesse Allgood was a giant Negro man.

  “Thank you so much, gentleman,” she said courteously. “If you’ll come upstairs, I’ll show you the bedroom furniture to be loaded. Those pieces will be the biggest and heaviest that we’re taking. The rest is small chairs and parcels and some trunks.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Macklin said. “Dallas rented us a couple of wagons. We’ll fill them up, and if we can’t get it all, we’ll make two trips.”

  Loading the wagon did not take long, for the three men were strong and worked hard and quickly. Even Darcy helped some, though with ill humor. Caesar and Libby carried smaller things. They had staunchly told the Ashbys that they were their family, and they were staying with them. Although after Charles freed them, he had always paid them a laborer’s wage of seventy cents a day, they flatly refused to take any pay for now, insisting that if they could live on the Queen and have board, they wouldn’t think of going anywhere else. It had touched Julienne’s heart.

  The wagons were loaded, and the men, along with Caesar and Libby, headed out toward Silver Street and Natchez-Under-the-Hill.

  The buyer of the Ashby’s open buggy had allowed them to keep it, along with one of the horses, until they got settled onto the Queen. Now Aunt Leah, Roseann, Julienne, and Carley put on their bonnets and climbed into the buggy for the last time. Darcy drove, as he was an excellent horseman and driver. Snapping the whip lightly, he muttered “Hup,” and the buggy moved off down the drive.

  Roseann looked back at the house and tears filled her eyes. Carley, who was sitting beside her, put her arm around her and said, “Don’t cry, Mama. I’ll take care of you.”

  Julienne felt much like crying herself. She had learned, however, that she could not show such weakness any more. Her mother was helpless, and depended on her, and so did Carley. And Aunt Leah’s courage and unceasing good humor encouraged Julienne and strengthened her. She looked at her and said, “What a journey we’re on!”

  Leah smiled. “Yes, a journey. Just like the Israelites left Egypt for the Promised Land. And just to show that our Father God is full of surprises—who would ever have thought that Dallas Bronte could be Moses and Natchez-Under-the-Hill could be the Promised Land?”

  Even Roseann laughed.

  JULIENNE LEANED OVER AND drew a deep breath. She was absolutely exhausted and filthy. It was late in the afternoon, and they had all been working all day long to try to clean up their staterooms. Julienne had managed to make hers somewhat presentable, but she knew that Caesar was working alone in the nightmare of the galley, and she felt she had to help him. He had stubbornly refused her help.

  “Caesar, all of our foodstuffs and pots and pans and dishes are still stacked down on the main deck. I’ll clean if you’ll bring all of that stuff up and try to get it in some order. Some of those packing cases are too heavy for me.”

  “Yes, you’re right, Miss Julienne. Now, I’ve got those shelves pretty clean, and I cleaned out that icebox. Seems like Mr. Bronte got us a nice big block of ice for it too. I sure do need to get that stuff up here.” He left, muttering to himself.

  The big four-top cook stove was covered with grease so old that it had turned into rock, Julienne thought. Gritting her teeth, she started scrubbing with a rough canvas pad and vinegar. They had been cleaning everything with vinegar, because it had sanitary properties and Julienne knew that it was the best thing for cleaning sickrooms.

  Ring Macklin came in and said, “You can’t scrub that stuff off, Miss Ashby, not when it gets like that. I’ll bring a chisel up and knock it off, and I can scrub it down real good then. Why don’t you go see your mama? I just talked to Caesar, and we’re going to get this kitchen going. We’ll have a fine supper in an hour or two.”

  “That would be so kind of you,” Julienne said, wiping her brow. “Libby is a wonderful cook, and I know she and Caesar would appreciate any help you can give us. And of course, please make sure that we have enough for everyone.”

  “Yes, ma’am. You go along now,” Ring said. “Give us a little time and we’ll all feast like kings.”

  Julienne went to check on her mother, who was lying down. She was in one of the larger staterooms, with her own furniture and her own bed linens, and Julienne was so glad. She had bought small beds and washstands for everyone else, and they had salvaged enough of their wooden side chairs that each room had at least one chair.

  She sat down beside her. “Mother, you are too tired. You did too much.”

  “I hardly did anything, Libby did almost all of it. And I know that she needs to be working on her and Caesar’s room,” she fretted. “Are you and Carley and Leah settled?”

  “We’re all fine,” Julienne said soothingly. “And we’re going to have a nice supper in an hour or so.”

  Roseann nodded. “Where’s Darcy?”

  Julienne wanted to say, He’s drunk and laid out in his filthy room because he didn’t clean one inch of it. But she knew this would only grieve her mother, so she said, “He’s fine, he’s resting. He’ll be at supper. Why don’t you try to sleep a little? I’ll come get you when we’re ready to eat.”

  “I think I can nap,” Roseann said and closed her eyes.

  She left her mother’s room and went to find Leah, who was scrubbing the floor in her stateroom. Together they sat on the bed while Julienne told her about her mother and supper. “And I don’t know when Mr. Bronte will be back. He was a little vague about what exactly it was he was going to go see about.”

  “What good would it do for him to explain it to you?” Leah asked with amusement. “I know whenever he tries to tell us about the equipment and things he needs for this boat, it sounds like he’s speaking Chinese. Tiddle-de-diddles and boggledy-geegaws and such.”

  Julienne giggled. “That’s true. If he had told me, I wouldn’t have known anything anyway.”

  Leah’s light expression sobered up and she said, “Julienne, he is working very hard to help us. You believe that, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And we have to trust him. No, that’s wrong, no one is forcing us to, least of all him. But I trust him. Do you?”

  “Yes,” Julienne said slowly, “yes, I do. You really like him, don’t you, Aunt Leah?”

  “Ever since the first time I met him, when he brought you home. He reminds me of my husband. Barry Norris was a wonderful man, and I think Dallas Bronte, when he truly finds himself, will be every bit as wonderful too.”

  TWO DAYS LATER IN late afternoon, Julienne was sitting with her mother and Aunt Leah, trying to sew curtains. She wasn’t a very good seamstress. For the third time she pricked her forefinger and stuck it in her mouth.

  Carley came running in and said, “Dallas is back! And he br
ought a whole bunch of stuff!”

  At once Julienne put her sewing down and hurried outside with Carley. She saw four wagons filled with what looked to be enormous pieces of junk. She and Carley went down the landing stage, and Dallas jumped down from the wagon and smiled at them. “Did you think I ran off with all your money, Miss Ashby?”

  “No,” Julienne smiled. “It wasn’t enough to tempt you. What is all this?”

  “Well, these are the boilers. These are parts of the engine. These are the pipes we need to replace.”

  “Is that everything we need?” Julienne asked.

  “Just about. Still need to replace a couple of gauges, and some of the lines have rotted so bad they can’t be spliced. We’ll have to replace those. But this is the bulk of it.”

  “Good, I’m so glad you found these—things,” Julienne said. “I think Ring and Libby are working on supper. Don’t you want to come inside and rest?”

  He laughed. “No resting on a riverboat when she needs work done. I’m going to round up this crew and we’re hauling all of this stuff inside right now. We’ll grab some supper, but we’ll be working tonight.”

  At midnight Julienne could still hear the men on the deck below, banging and talking, sometimes swearing. She had not yet undressed, so she pulled on a shawl and went down to the boiler room. Ring, Willem, and Jesse were all working there, but she didn’t see Dallas. It was a few moments before they saw her, then they all stopped working and almost came to attention. Each man was literally black from head to toe, with their eyes shining out eerily.

  Her mouth twitching, Julienne said, “Thank you, gentlemen, but under the circumstances I think you’re going to need to stop jumping every time I or my mother or my aunt appear. You’re working men, not our butlers. Please, just go on with what you’re doing. Where is Mr. Bronte?”

  “He’s back in the engine room, Miss Ashby, I’ll fetch him,” Jesse offered.