Wilderness Courtship Page 10

  “You are a hard man to please.”

  Thorne’s smile grew. “You’re just now figuring that out? Tsk-tsk. I thought you were smarter than that.”

  “Smart enough to try to stay on your good side,” she quipped. “Listen, is there any chance we could get a light meal? It doesn’t have to be fancy. Jacob has eaten all the food I brought along and I’m starving.”

  “Sorry. I should have explained. I’ve already arranged with the galley for your meals to be served in your suite. Would you like me to dine with you or would you prefer your privacy?”

  Charity chuckled. “Privacy? In here? It feels more like solitary confinement. I—we—would love to have you eat with us.”

  “In that case, I’ll be back in a jiffy.” He paused and stared pointedly at her. “Lock the door again and keep it locked until I get back.”

  “You worry too much.”

  Thorne’s brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. “It’s not unreasonable to worry if someone is really after you,” he said flatly. “Lock that door. Now.”

  As he turned to go he heard the click of the lock. She might think he was overreacting but he knew better. Any of Louis Ashton’s prior reprehensible deeds would have been enough to convince Thorne that nothing short of death would stop the old man from carrying out his plans to eliminate Aaron’s family.

  The way Thorne saw it, he was the only deterrent standing between that family and an untimely death. He, and Charity Beal.

  He knew he couldn’t have asked for a more dedicated, loyal ally.

  Charity was perplexed. She stood in the center of the cabin and tried to figure out where they should spread their repast. The closer the boat drew to the shore the choppier the water became and although she and Jacob seemed fine, poor Naomi lay in her narrow berth, moaning.

  Finally, Charity decided it would be wiser to relocate the small wooden writing desk and use it for a table than to leave it where it was in the cramped cabin. If she dragged it out onto the deck, she reasoned, they could breathe fresh air as they supped and no one would have to listen to Naomi’s laments.

  She had nearly finished relocating the makeshift dining table and two armless side chairs when Thorne reappeared. She could tell by his expression of disgust that he wasn’t pleased by her choice of arrangements.

  “Don’t look at me like that.” Charity faced him with her hands fisted on her hips. “I imagine it won’t bother an old salt like you but there is a very ill woman in my cabin and I don’t relish the notion of having to try to eat while in the same room with her. It wouldn’t be good for Jacob, either.”

  Thorne nodded and acquiesced. “You’re right. Naomi is definitely not a sailor. She hardly ate a bite during our entire voyage around the horn. Aaron plied her with sugar cubes dosed in peppermint oil but she remained ill in spite of it.”

  “Poor thing. No wonder she seems so frail,” Charity said. “I’ll see if I can coax her into eating a sop of bread or chewing on some gingerroot, later. We should be better off once we’ve stopped, right?”

  “As a matter of fact, we’re already at anchor.”

  “But how can we be? I still hear the engine.”

  “The captain is keeping the boilers fired up to counter the tide when it turns. That way, we can also be underway as soon as he deems it safe. It’s a wise decision.”

  “I see. There’s certainly a lot to know about running a boat, isn’t there?”

  “Or a sailing ship,” Thorne said. He carefully placed a basket of food on the deck. “You might want to bring a blanket outside and we’ll make this a picnic. Keeping everything on the top of that little desk in this weather will be nigh impossible. Dishes were sliding off the tables in the saloon just now, even though those are made with rimmed edges.”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so before? It took me ages to drag that cumbersome thing outside.”

  “Then stay put and watch the boy. I’ll put it back for you.”

  “Nonsense. I can handle it.”

  “I know you can, but…” He bent over and reached for the edges of the desk at the same time Charity did.

  Their heads bumped and their hands overlapped, his atop hers. His touch was firm and reassuring.

  Instead of giving ground or jumping away, she froze and tilted her head to look at him. At the same instant Thorne’s gaze met hers. His face was mere inches from hers and she could feel his warm breath on her cheeks, on her lips.

  Looking into his dark brown eyes, she was struck by their unexpected intensity, their emotional impact on her very being. Charity imagined it would be easy to drown in the all-encompassing depths of his gaze.

  Finally, after what had seemed like aeons, she came to her senses, slipped her hands free, straightened and stepped back. Thorne made no comment.

  Instead of following him into the cabin while he replaced the desk and chairs, Charity called, “There’s an extra blanket folded at the foot of my berth. Bring that one for us to sit on? Please?”

  Remaining silent, he did as she asked, handed her the blanket, then stood aside while she spread it on the deck.

  Except for cautious peeks at him through lowered lashes, Charity kept her gaze averted. She wondered if Thorne’s emotions had been as affected by their accidental proximity as hers were. She doubted it. After all, he was a man of the world, a successful ship owner and veteran traveler. He had seen faraway places and had certainly met many women much prettier, more educated and more interesting than a simple farm girl from Ohio.

  No, her heart corrected, not a girl, a woman. A woman who was once married, sullied by cruelty, and therefore ruined for any good, normal man who might someday come along and wish to become her husband.

  Thorne knew all about that part of her history, she reminded herself. Little wonder he had said he wasn’t going to take her walking the way a suitor might and was now acting reluctant to even look at her again, let alone purposely take her hand, which was just as well. Thanks to the painful memories of Ramsey Tucker’s abuse, she normally recoiled from any grown man’s touch, except perhaps that of her own father.

  Now, however, Charity was puzzled. Something very troubling had just occurred and she wasn’t prepared to deal with it. Although she realized that Thorne had merely covered her hands with his by accident rather than purposefully, she had not been repulsed by the contact. Not in the slightest.

  Admitting that startling fact, even to herself, was almost as frightening as their continued flight from would-be assassins.

  The simple meal of cold meat, bread, cheese and canned peaches had been quickly completed. Since the weather was worsening and rain had begun to dot the deck beyond the sheltering overhang, Thorne had bid them good-night, picked up the basket and politely taken his leave.

  Bone weary, Charity had seen to Jacob’s personal needs, then had done as much as she could for Naomi, including making her a weak ginger tea out of tepid water to settle her stomach. Adding a drop of laudanum to the tea had helped Naomi relax and sleep.

  Although no one had actually dressed for bed due to the dangers inherent in the inclement weather, Charity had loosened her clothing and slipped off her shoes and stockings before lying down.

  She forced herself to close her eyes as she listened to the creaking of the wooden craft and the drum of activity belowdecks. Every so often there was also a long, drawn-out hiss which she attributed to the venting of excess steam.

  Recalling Jacob’s bedtime antics, Charity smiled to herself. Due to the narrowness of the berths she had said, “I’ll make you your very own bed and we’ll slide it under mine. That way you’ll still be close by and your mother and I won’t step on you if we have to get up during the night. How does that sound?”

  When he’d answered, “No,” and started to whine she’d realized she should not have posed the idea as a question.

  “I want to sleep with you, in a real bed,” he had insisted, sniffling and rubbing his eyes with his fists.

  “Okay, if that’s what
you want.” Charity chose her words more carefully this time. “But these berths are awfully narrow for two. I thought you’d like making your very own cabin. We could have fun pretending it’s a fort or a cave—and you could even be a bear.”

  “Really?” Pout forgotten, his dark eyes had sparkled. “A bear? A big bear?”

  “Yes. Of course, if you don’t want to…”

  “I do, I do.” He’d dropped to his hands and knees to peer into the narrow space. “Make me a cave.”

  As soon as she had prepared his pallet, he had gladly shinnied onto it and had quickly discovered an added bonus to his make-believe den. Roaring as if he were a real bear, he’d begun kicking at the bottom side of her thin mattress and giggling when she’d pretended to be scared.

  They had laughed and teased for a few minutes until she had dimmed the lamp and he had dozed off. So had Naomi. Charity was heartened to hear the other woman’s soft sighs in the nearly dark cabin. At least the poor dear was no longer moaning and tossing about. That was certainly something to be thankful for.

  With both her charges finally in repose, Charity was free to begin to unwind. She began by saying her prayers, then let her mind drift beyond the confines of the cabin and imagined herself standing on the shore amid the towering trees Thorne had pointed out.

  Unfortunately, once she fell asleep and began to dream, her lovely visions became tortured and filled with her late husband’s threats and cruelty. Her heart pounded. Beads of perspiration dotted her forehead and neck. She saw herself running blindly in the midst of a whirling, punishing tornado like the one that had leveled their Ohio farm and killed her mother.

  In the nightmare, Charity was fleeing from an ugliness too foul, too indescribable to even have a face, yet she knew who it was. Who it had to be. Though Ramsey Tucker was dead, the memory of him continued to haunt her.

  She called out to God in her terror. Suddenly her eyes popped open. She blinked rapidly. Torrential rain was beating against a small window with such alarming ferocity it seemed sure to break through the fragile glass at any moment.

  For a few seconds Charity didn’t remember where she was or with whom. It was the rocking and pitching of the room that reminded her. She threw aside her blanket and swung her feet to the floor while she fought to calm down and regain her sensibilities.

  “I’m on a steamboat,” she whispered, rubbing her eyes. “I’m safe. We’re safe. This cabin is secure and everyone is fine.”

  She strained to listen, to reassure herself. All she could hear was the rapid beating of her own pulse, the creaking of the wooden hull, and the incessant hammering of the deluge against the walls and tin roof.

  Her lamp had apparently gone out while she slept. She reached for the place she was certain she had left it and touched thin air, instead.

  Lightning flashed. Thunder shook the cabin.

  Charity blinked and tried to focus, wishing the burst of light had lasted longer so she could get her bearings. Whatever had she done with that lamp? It couldn’t have fallen to the floor or she’d smell spilled coal oil.

  Standing, she extended her arms and groped across the short distance to Naomi’s berth. Her knees bumped against the railing along the side.

  She bent cautiously, wary of losing her balance and falling against the other women. Her hands touched the blankets. They were warm. Rumpled.

  Charity patted the surface of the berth, then slapped it more vigorously.

  Her breath caught as she realized there was no doubt. The bed was empty. Naomi was gone!

  Thorne was dozing with his feet propped on one of the red velvet chairs, his torso half reclining in another, when he felt icy drops of water hitting his face. Someone was shaking his shoulders. Someone very wet.

  He opened his eyes, ready to snap at whoever had disturbed him. It was Charity. Her hair was plastered to her cheeks and neck and her clothing was soaked. One look at her wild-eyed expression brought him to immediate alertness.

  “What is it? What’s happened?”

  “Naomi’s gone!”

  “When? How?”

  “I don’t know.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself to fend off the chill. “I didn’t hear a thing. I just woke up and she was gone.”

  “What about the boy?” When she didn’t immediately respond, Thorne was sorely tempted to give her a shake.

  “He’s—he’s fine. I think,” she finally said.

  “You locked the door when you left him, right? Right?”

  Her expression of utter terror and confusion was all the answer Thorne needed. He was out the saloon door and running along the deck before he’d made a conscious decision to do so. One quick glance over his shoulder told him that Charity was following.

  He jerked open the cabin door and fumbled to strike a match. His heart fell. All the berths were empty.

  Whirling, he pulled Charity inside and demanded, “What happened? Tell me exactly what you remember?”

  “Nothing.”

  Thorne could tell she was fighting tears but he didn’t have time to coddle her. “There must be something. Think. What woke you?”

  “A—a nightmare. I dreamed I was running away and it was raining. There was terrible wind, like a tornado.”

  “Your mind may have been prompted to think that when the door was opened and you felt the storm blowing in on you from outside. Did you rise immediately?”

  “Yes. I couldn’t find the lamp. I thought I knew where I had left it but it wasn’t there, so I felt my way across the room to check on Naomi. She was gone.”

  Thorne could hear the catch in Charity’s voice, sense the pathos she was feeling. “All right,” he said. “You can’t go running around out on deck like that or you’ll have the ague by morning. Put on your heavy coat to keep warm and we’ll rouse the crew to help us look. Naomi must have taken Jacob with her. Chances are we’ll find them together.”

  “No. Wait,” Charity shouted. She fell to her knees and reached beneath her berth. “He’s here! Praise, God, Jacob’s still here.”

  Thorne joined her as she eased the sleepy child out from his hiding place and enfolded him in her embrace. More lightning revealed that tears were sliding down her cheeks. He could understand her emotional response. His was similar.

  He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat before he asked, “What was he doing under there?”

  “Pretending to be a—a bear,” she stuttered. “I didn’t want him to get stepped on if I had to get up in the night to see to Naomi so I talked him into sleeping out of the way. I—I was just trying to be practical. I never dreamed it would keep him safe the way it did.”

  The little boy had wrapped his arms around Charity’s damp neck, as if clinging to a life preserver. Thorne wanted to hold him, too, but decided to leave him right were he was, safe and secure in the tenderhearted woman’s embrace.

  Instead, he leaned closer and asked, “Are you all right, Jacob?”

  “Uh-huh.” The child seemed to be looking over Charity’s shoulder and searching the darkness. “Is he gone?”

  “Is who gone?” Thorne asked.

  “The man. The bad man. I saw him but I was scared to holler.” He began to sniffle. “I’m sorry, Uncle Thorne.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he answered, taking care to temper his tone so the child wouldn’t become more frightened. “Did you see what happened? Did he take your mama away?”

  The tousled head nodded vigorously.

  “What did he look like?”

  “I don’t know. He had on a real shiny coat.”

  “Black, like the captain and crew wear?”

  “I think so.” Jacob yawned. “Will you go get Mama, Uncle Thorne? She shouldn’t be out in the rain.”

  “No, she certainly shouldn’t.” He looked to Charity. “You stay here with him and lock the door after me.”

  “What good will that do? I had it locked and someone got in anyway.”

  “Humor me.” Reaching into his
pocket, he withdrew a tiny pistol barely as big as his palm. “Here. It only has two shots, one in each barrel, but it’s better than nothing.”

  Cautious, he held it out and waited until she accepted it. “Don’t be afraid, just be careful,” Thorne said. “It won’t fire unless you cock it first, so it’s safe enough. Make sure you don’t point it at anything or anybody unless you intend to shoot.”

  “I don’t think I could purposely hurt anyone.”

  “Could you if they were threatening the boy?” Watching her expression change to one of resolution and seeing her nod, he was satisfied she’d be capable of defending his nephew if need be.

  “That’s what I thought,” Thorne said. “All right. I’ll go do what I can to find Naomi.”

  Charity grabbed his sleeve as he turned to leave. “How can I help?”

  “Pray,” Thorne said without hesitation. “Pray harder than you ever have before. I’m going to need divine intervention. And so is Naomi.”

  Chapter Ten

  Wind pushed wave after wave of rain in blinding sheets, driving it nearly parallel to the decks of the pitching steamer.

  The man struggling across the slippery starboard deck with an unwilling, groggy woman in tow was having trouble keeping his feet. It galled him that he hadn’t been able to locate the child, too, and make short work of them both. Oh, well. As soon as he managed to drag his burden farther aft and hurl her over that railing, he’d be half done. That was enough to crow about.

  He had taken the only lamp from the Ashton woman’s cabin, then had decided it was too much bother and had tried to toss it into the ocean. When he’d heard its glass breaking against a lower deck he’d realized he’d have to drag his victim to the rear of the craft to make sure she dropped directly into the icy water. After all, in a storm like this, accidents were bound to happen.

  A shout echoed above the sound of thunder and the crashing of waves. Another followed. He could hear the clomp of several pairs of boots running along the deck. Although the rain masked much of the sound, he suspected his deed had been discovered and he was being pursued.