Nan Ryan (4 page)

Kathleen frowned when she thought about it. Dawson was truly exasperating at times! Any of the young boys who came to the parties would have loved the chance to steal a kiss from her, though she would never let them. But Dawson was not a boy at all; he was twenty-seven and had surely kissed ladies before. So why not her? She knew he found her attractive, wasn’t he always telling her how pretty she was? And at the parties, didn’t he always remain at her side throughout the evening, reluctant to leave her even for a moment’s conversation with the other men. His hand stayed protectively at her waist even when they were not dancing and he never danced with any girl but her, though she could see in their eyes they were all green with envy and would be thrilled and flattered to have a dance with him. Didn’t this prove she was his sweetheart, the only girl he cared about? But if so, why in heaven’s name hadn’t he kissed her? Kathleen heard voices downstairs and the huge front doors being opened. Dawson’s clear baritone floated up to her and she smiled at the sound of his rich, enchanting voice and vowed silently to herself, “Tonight I will make him kiss me!”

The engagement party was a gala affair and Kathleen was quite breathless from dancing: She stood beside Dawson, his hand at her waist, talking with the other guests. A gentleman she had not met until this evening, Mister Charles Byner, had approached them and, after being introduced, had apologized to her and said he must have a few words with Dawson. Dawson told the man politely he couldn’t leave Kathleen alone, but to speak freely. Not interested in what the two were discussing, Kathleen let her eyes roam around the room. She smiled when her eyes met Becky’s. Her friend looked so happy and prettier than she had ever been before. Her adoring Ben stood with his arm around her, obviously very much in love. Becky smiled and winked at Kathleen and Kathleen raised her glass of punch in a toast before letting her eyes slide further around the grand ballroom. Julie Horne sat alone in the corner. Caleb Bates walked up to her. Kathleen watched as Caleb bent down awkwardly and said something, his face a bright shade of red. Julie rose immediately and Kathleen knew Caleb had finally found the nerve to ask Julie for a dance. She read Julie’s lips as she shyly looked up at the tall, skinny boy and said, “Why, Caleb, I’d love to.” Kathleen smiled to herself; they were both so painfully shy she didn’t see how they ever got together, but somehow they had managed and Kathleen suspected they would follow Becky and Ben to the altar in a few months. Leaving only her. Unmarried. Not even engaged. An old maid.

“The repairs were completed tonight. You can have your men load her in the morning if you like,” Dawson was saying to Mister Byner.

“Splendid, Mister Blakely, we’ll start at first light. That will work out fine.”

“Sorry for the delay, but it couldn’t be helped. She’s as good as new now and ready for the trip.”

“Thank you, Mister Blakely. Now if you’ll excuse me. Ma’am,” Mister Byner bowed to Kathleen and disappeared into the crowd.

“What will be ready in the morning, Dawson?” Kathleen looked up at him.

“A steamboat,” he smiled, returning his full attention to her.

“A steamboat? You own one?”

“Yes, Kathleen, several,” Dawson answered, matter of factly.

“You have more than one?” She peered up at him, surprised.

Dawson laughed, “Yes, dear, what’s so strange about that?”

“Dawson Blakely, you never told me you owned any boats, much less more than one.” The blue eyes widened as she looked up at him.

“I never thought you’d be interested, Kathleen. It’s part of my business. They aren’t pleasure boats, they’re cargo vessels, packet boats. I’m afraid there’s nothing very exciting about them.”

“But it is exciting, Dawson. Oh, I want to see one of your boats. May I?”

“Sure you can, honey. Now, would you like to dance, they’re playing a waltz.”

“No, I don’t want to dance! I want to see your boat, Dawson Blakely. You said I could.”

“You mean now,” he laughed at her and jerked a blond curl playfully. “Dear, I didn’t mean tonight. This is a party; I thought you loved parties and dancing. And it’s cold out, remember. You can see it another day.”

“No,” Kathleen reached up to his lapel. “Please, Dawson, take me to see your boat
tonight
. It would be so exciting and I won’t be cold. Oh, please.”

“Kathleen, your father would horsewhip me if I took you down to the river tonight and you know it. I want to please you, honey, but you are being foolish.” But the thought of being alone with her intrigued him greatly.

She saw the look in his dark eyes and pressed him. “Oh, Dawson, no one need know. Father will never find out; he’ll think we are still at the party. And it’s so crowded here, no one will miss us.” She fluttered the thick black lashes at him and put as much honey into her voice as possible.

Finding her utterly irresistible, Dawson agreed against his better judgment. Smiling and leaning close, he whispered in her ear, “How can I refuse you. Get your wrap and let’s be off.”

They were in the back of Dawson’s big carriage, the chill November wind stinging their faces. “Are you cold, pet?” Dawson was gracious as the carriage left the bluffs and headed for the river.

“Not at all. Really.” Kathleen was too excited to feel the cold. She wanted to see Dawson’s boat and was also thrilled at the prospect of going to Natchez Under at night. Kathleen had heard all the stories of the things that went on down there and could hardly wait to see for herself.

They reached the bottom and already she could hear boisterous laughter and shouting and was eager to get to the scene of all the merriment. The driver turned the carriage down Silver Street and Kathleen looked out in wide-eyed amazement. Yellow-skinned barkers stood on the street and shouted out the pleasures to be found on this main street, the toughest in all Mississippi. She saw drunken men staggering along the wooden sidewalks and she gasped when she saw half-naked women leaning out of windows calling to them. Loud piano music drifted to the carriage along with high feminine laughter. Kathleen saw the dregs of humanity all gathered together in a hell she could never have imagined. It was all terribly shocking and fascinating to Kathleen Diana Beauregard and she stared in horrified wonder at the scenes they passed. Most shocking of all to her was that all the men under the bluffs were not river rats, boat crewman, Negro musicians, or white trash. She gasped audibly while, practically leaning out of the carriage for an unobstructed view of the sinful place, she saw a sleek, well-dressed gentleman slap the rear of a passing gaudily painted female. Shrinking back inside the carriage immediately, she tried to digest what she had seen. A queasiness filled her stomach when she realized that many of the men seeing their pleasures down under were the blue-blooded gentlemen dwelling in the pillared mansions above.

“I should never have brought you here,” Dawson said softly, looking down at her frightened face. “I’m sorry, honey,” he slowly raised his arm and brought it around her shoulders. She settled back against him, unable to speak for a while. Frightened, stunned, her teeth chattering slightly, she nestled closer to him in the security of his arm.

She put her hands on his chest and looked up at him, “Dawson, are we in danger?”

Dawson couldn’t help himself; he had to laugh at the absurd question, though her blue eyes were terrified. Then he remembered she was only an innocent young girl, barely sixteen years old. Pulling her closer, he covered the tiny fingers on his chest with his own brown hand. “Honey, do you think I would ever let anything in this world happen to you? You are as safe as a babe in her cradle, I assure you. I was raised down here, remember?”

“Oh, Dawson, it must have been awful! How did you survive it?”

Dawson shrugged his massive shoulders. “I knew nothing better then, it seemed only natural to me. Now I know there’s a cleaner, more beautiful way of life and I want to be a part of it, to belong.”

“You belong,” she assured him, then grew silent for a moment. Peering up at his face, she said, “Dawson, can I ask you a question?”

“Anything, pet.”

“Have you ever, that is … did you … I mean …” She couldn’t finish.

“What, honey?” Dawson’s voice was soft, “what do you want to know?”

Kathleen moved her hands from under his and put them in her lap. Her face grew crimson as she whispered, “Have you ever been to one of those houses?”

“One of what houses, Kathleen?” Dawson teased, making her squirm.

In a flash, her haughty spirit returned and her childish curiosity overcame her embarrassment. “You know what I mean! I want to know if you have ever been to one of those … those loose women!” The blond head jerked up quickly to look at his face.

The smile on Dawson’s face did not change at all and she could read no answer. He spoke, but he didn’t tell her what she was longing to know. “Kathleen, for a young lady of high birth and social standing unparalleled in all Natchez, do you really think it proper to be discussing such things? Your breeding warrants tact and it’s really terribly rude to ask such crass questions, don’t you think?” His throaty laughter made her want to bite her tongue off. She ducked her head, seething at him for laughing at her. He quit laughing and pulled her close again and her anger disappeared when she felt his lips on her ear and he whispered ever so softly, “I’m sorry, honey, don’t be angry.” She smiled again and looked at him. She still did not get the answer to her question.

By the time the carriage reached the river wharf, Kathleen had forgotten the squalor and gaudiness of Silver Street and was eager to get on board Dawson’s boat. The carriage stopped on the pier at the water’s edge ad Dawson helped her up the gangplank. “Sam,” he shouted, and almost immediately a tall, powerfully built black man appeared on the hurricane deck above them. Bigger even than Dawson, Sam leaned over the railing and smiled. White teeth flashed as he responded to Dawson’s shouts, “Yes, Cap’n Dawson, right here, suh.”

“Good, Sam, I have a young lady with me and she’s dying to take a look around.”

Sam moved from the railing and came down the gangplank reaching for Kathleen’s hand, bowing grandly. Dawson said proudly, “Sam, this is Kathleen Diana Beauregard.”

“Pleased to meet you, Miz Beauregard,” Sam nodded and the huge black hand took hers and gently pulled her up the gangplank.

“Honey, this is Sam Jones, the best riverboat pilot on the Mississippi.” Releasing Kathleen’s hand, Sam grinned and glanced down at his shoes.

“Sam, I’m happy to meet you,” Kathleen said politely, but she sank further back against the security of Dawson’s large frame, looking up at the black giant of a man in front of her.

“Is she fired up, Sam? I’d like to take Kathleen for a little ride.”

Kathleen’s face brightened and she spun around and put her hands to Dawson’s chest, “Oh, could we, Dawson? It would be so wonderful to get out on the river.”

He smiled down at her, “I can refuse you nothing, my pet. If a short ride on this old riverboat will make you happy, you shall have it.” He winked at Sam over her head.

Sam turned immediately and started shouting orders to the crew. Black men scurried from their card games on the boiler deck. The firemen, roustabouts, and deck hands soon had fires glaring in the long row of furnaces. Sam went up the ladder to take his position in the pilothouse.

Kathleen stood on the hurricane deck with Dawson, breathlessly watching and listening to all the excitement. Soon a man was shouting, “Let her go,” and the boat was leaving the wharf. The bell was clanging loudly and the engines started up, shooting plumes of steam high in the air. The paddle wheels churned up white foam about the stern as the vessel backed away to head for the river.

The boat slid past the long rows of other vessels moored at the pier; timber rafts, broadhorns, tiny trading scows, coal barges, and other riverboats. Sam stood at the wheel coaxing her safely past, his big hands firmly on the wheel, his eyes staring alertly in the darkness, looking fore and aft, wheeling her a little to this side then a little to that, until they were on the river.

Kathleen watched the blinking lights of Natchez Under the Hill and Natchez on the Bluffs, her bright blue eyes aglow with the excitement and giddy laughter escaping her happy lips. “Oh, Dawson, this is every bit as thrilling as I expected. Thank you for bringing me.”

“Come, I’ll show you the pilothouse.” Dawson led her up the companionway to the pilothouse. Inside the glass enclosed room it was dark, no lights were burning, and the stove was cold with no fire built in it. Kathleen’s eyes moved around the room as Sam smiled to both of them before turning back to stare straight ahead at the river.

“Dawson,” Kathleen whispered to him, “why has Sam got the lights turned off and why doesn’t he build a fire?”

Dawson smiled and explained, “It’s very dark tonight, honey. Sam keeps it this way in the wheelhouse for safety. If he had the lights blazing and a fire burning brightly, he wouldn’t be able to see the river clearly and that could prove dangerous. Now, dear, would you like to take the wheel for a while?” Kathleen peered up at him not knowing whether he was teasing or not. Dawson’s black eyes were crinkling at the corners and he laughed and said, “I’m serious, darling. Would you like to try?”

“Oh, Dawson, may I? Do you think Sam would mind?”

Dawson put his arm around her waist, “Let’s ask him. Sam, Kathleen is just itching to take your job away from you.”

Sam smiled broadly. “Yes, suh, Cap’n Dawson. She look lak she be a good sailor.” He relinquished the wheel.

Not certain she was up to the challenge, Kathleen hung back. Dawson took her arm and pulled her to the wheel, laughing, “Come on, pilot, you said you wanted to steer. She’s all yours.”

“Are you sure it’s safe, Dawson? I wouldn’t want to wreck us.”

“Just do as I tell you and it will be fine.”

“Okay,” she said, putting both hands to the wheel, “but you won’t be far away, will you?”

“Miss, do you take me for a fool? I just got this boat repaired today. I’m not planning to let it get wrecked. Now, I’m going to stand right behind you, so you have nothing to worry about.”