White Dreams (18 page)

In the midst of her heart-stopping self-revelation, the edges of her vision darkened. “No. Oh, no,” she moaned, gripping her head with both hands. Her heart raced and she held her breath. And this time, the darkness did not claim her completely. A shadowy shape formed—Grady’s, as he held out his hands to her. Nothing more.

She waited, fearing the worst. As unexpectedly as it had come, the image receded. But rather than relieving her, the vanishing left her on edge. Pain sliced through her heart, cleaving her in two. Was she to protect her heart and mind by avoiding Grady, denying herself the love he offered, or risk eventual heartache?

Pressing her fingers to her lips, she closed her eyes, reliving the passion, the warmth, the gentleness of his kiss. She flushed with anticipation, yearning for, needing his touch, his tender caresses, his kisses. She needed him. His love. Standing, she moved slowly toward the door connecting her room to Grady’s.

The choice was hers. Safety and loneliness for the rest of her life, or love and joy. And loss.

Her fingers wrapped around the doorknob.

She opened the door and stepped inside.

She chose love. She wanted Grady, wanted what he so freely offered. And by accepting his love, she’d be free to give her own in return.

Glowing light from the lamp on the table beside his bed penetrated the gloom of the room and chased away the shadows in her heart. She sat on the edge of his bed and smoothed her palm over his pillow, imagining his head resting there, her fingers combing through thick, golden-red strands of hair as his blue-gray eyes turned smoky with desire. And his mouth was full and soft, parting, begging her to lean down and touch and taste it.

The image of him there, with her, was so strong, so powerful, that heat pooled between her legs. Star moaned and hugged the pillow to her breasts, wishing he was there.

“This ain’t the cargo listed on the manifest.” The substitute captain of
Freedom’s Fancy
frowned and studied the shipping papers.

Leo shifted his gaze, one eye on the rough-looking crew and the other on two men down on the wharf, guarding his cargo of slaves. “There’s been a change.”

The captain shook his head. “I’m going to have to clear this through Mr. Olsen.”

Damn, Leo thought. What rotten luck to have the regular master of the steamboat out ill. Baxter had found one of his other men to pilot the steamboat until the captain was well again. And everyone knew how Leo’s employer felt about slavery.

Leo snatched the papers, folded them and tucked them into an envelope. “Mr. Olsen is out of town. I’m in charge, and I have a customer willing to pay—and pay well—to have this cargo delivered safely. Your job is to pilot the damn boat, not pry into business decisions. Now, do you follow orders, or do I relieve you of duty? There are other captains who will be more than happy to take your place.” Leo knew the man had seven children to support.

“But Mr. Olsen has never transported slaves before.” The captain looked unhappy and uncertain.

Sweat broke out along Leo’s forehead. If only he’d been informed of the change, he could have called off the shipment—but it was too late now. There was too much risk taking them back to the abandoned house on the outskirts of the city. He peered into the darkness beyond the wharf. Time was of the essence.

“Decide now.”

“Maybe I want to keep my job.” The captain paced nervously.

“You’ll be paid extra for this run. The money’s good. What does it matter what the cargo is? It’s all about money. For Baxter, for me and for you.” Especially for him.

At last, the captain acceded. Relieved, Leo ordered the five women to be taken down to a room belowdeck. Three men escorted the shipment on board. One man held the arm of a young woman who stumbled.

“What’s wrong with that one?” Concerned, the captain stepped forward.

Leo slid in front of him. “She gave birth two days ago and lost the babe. I’ll see them settled.”

Leo followed his cargo, saw them herded into one small room. Gripping his riding crop, he smacked his hand with it. Each of the women was lined up against the wall. Each wore baggy sacking.

The first woman he came to cowered. He grinned and grabbed her jaw. At fifteen, she was the youngest, and a virgin. “You’ll fetch me and the boss a nice bit of cash.” He leered, reaching out to fondle her breasts before moving to the next woman.

The next two shrank from his touch. He’d enjoyed them several times already, before turning them over to the Dragon. The fourth woman was old. No plantation owner would want her, nor would the brothel. But for right now, she was useful. She held up the fifth woman, the one who’d slumped against her and was moaning.

Leo shoved the filthy hood off the hidden woman’s head. Blond hair cascaded forward, covering her face and sliding soft as silk against his arm. He caressed it, then yanked. The dazed blue eyes blinked. Drugged, and bound beneath her cloak, her moans and fearful cries were muffled by the gag. “And you are my prize.”

This one would fetch him more than the last two shipments combined. And best of all, she was his—as was the money she’d fetch. “Keep this one drugged,” he ordered. The two men he addressed would see his cargo to its final destination: a brothel on the fringes of the western frontier whose madam paid well for young girls, especially virgins, and didn’t care if they were willing or not.

Leaving one man inside the cabin to make sure the prisoners caused no trouble, he locked the door to keep everyone else out. Relief swept through him. Everything was going as planned. Come morning, long before Baxter returned,
Freedom’s Fancy
would be gone. He’d always been secretly amused at his choice of ships to transport slaves. He handed the second man the key. “No one but you is to go in there.”

“Yes, sir. We’ll git ’em delivered.” The man rubbed his hands together. “When does we git our pay?”

Leo brought the whip down hard onto the man’s thigh. “When the cargo is safely delivered, and not a second before. Bring back a letter from Madam Olivia.” Then he left, certain that everything would go according to plan.

Lost in his own thoughts of the money he’d make, he started when a dark shadow emerged from an alley and stopped him. “Any trouble?” it asked.

“None, boss.” Leo didn’t mention the switch of captains. Why bother? He’d taken care of it.

“What is wrong with the one slave?”

“Nothing. Just trying to get the captain’s attention.” Leo kept his voice carefully neutral. There’d be hell to pay if this man realized two of Leo’s own young slave girls had been released so he could ship them in place of those who had escaped. He would eat the loss in the money, though. The Dragon always got the biggest share, but he always made some cash, and the blonde girl would more than make up for the difference.

“Well done, Leo.” The Dragon, heavily bearded and wearing a large, thick overcoat, handed him a leather bundle.

Leo measured the thickness, peeled back the leather and counted the bills inside.

Soft laughter followed. “You don’t trust me?”

“No.”

“Ah, you’re a wise man.”

“Just wait until I own Baxter’s business. Then we’ll be able to ship more often. Maybe we should arrange an accident.”

“Leo, my friend, you’re thinking again.”

Leo, caught up in his own plans, missed the dark edge to the Dragon’s voice. “I could marry Hester Mae and have it all.” For he wanted it all: the house, the business, the status. And even Hester Mae, though marriage to her wouldn’t stop him from taking his other pleasures where he pleased. The voice had turned quiet. Deadly.

Leo swore to himself. “You know what I mean. I’d have the business and you’d have your transportation.”

“For a fee, of course.”

“Same as now.”

“I see. I will take care of Baxter when the time is right, but for now, we will not do anything rash. Your day will come, my friend. We have more important things to see to first. I want Hattie back. And I want the squaw.” His voice turned rough. “Get them for me. Understand?”

Leo stuttered, “Y-yes, boss. We’ll get them.”

“Don’t let me down, Leo. And don’t be in such a rush. You must be patient.” With that, the slave lord slid back into the shadows and disappeared down the alley.

At the Blue Horn, a gentleman’s club, Grady set his empty glass down on the table with more force than needed. “Slavery is wrong! I fear there will be war before all is said and done.”

“People have the right to own slaves. And the South will fight to keep that right.” Todd Langley, overhearing their conversation earlier and recognizing them from the other day at the wharf, had joined Grady and Charles. The man was a businessman who owned his own importing company. He set his own empty glass down, then beckoned over a young serving woman. She wore a low-cut blouse that revealed all but the tips of her overly generous bosom every time she deliberately leaned over him to gather empty glasses.

“Another round.” Langley’s hand trailed high beneath her skirt. She winked.

“No more for me,” Grady said, put off by the blatant sexual play as Todd reached up to fondle one of her breasts. The man had seemed pleasant enough when he’d joined them, but he was quickly beginning to wear on Grady’s nerves, what with his narrow-minded view of the world.

Charles refused another drink as well, and when the young servant sauntered away with swaying hips, he returned to their previous conversation.

“Humans were not meant to live in bondage, their children taken from them, their mates sold and shipped off at the whim of some cruel master. Free men should not have to fear being captured and sold against their will.” He jabbed his finger at Todd. “I will stop this! When I discover who is behind this—when I find this Dragon—I will expose him and see him rot in jail.”

Grady laid a stilling hand on his friend’s shoulder. Like him, Charles publically denounced the practice of auctioning off slaves in the courthouse and the presence of agents in the city working for a dozen dealers. And the injustice of free slaves being forced back into slavery, and having no rights because they weren’t considered citizens, infuriated him.

“At least we saved Hattie—and because of her, we now know when the rest were shipped out. It shouldn’t be too hard to learn which steamer took them and where. That will lead us to who.”

Todd’s eyes flashed with anger as he drowned his whiskey in one gulp. “A waste of time, if you ask me.
Niggers
were brought to this country to serve. That’s the way it’s supposed to be…and no one is going to take away my right to own slaves.”

Grady eyed Todd with a mix of disgust and disappointment, wondering why the man had even bothered to help defend Hattie against her kidnappers. He was just like so many others in this city. If Grady hadn’t been there with Star, would Langley have walked off and left the woman to her fate? Probably. It seemed everyone here turned a blind eye to the abuse of slaves. The path the country was taking, thought Grady wearily, could only lead to bloodshed.

Noting the lateness of the hour, he stood. He hadn’t planned on staying out so late, but he and Charles had spent the afternoon talking to pilots and workers on the wharf, trying to trace the steamer that had left the night the
Annabella
arrived. Charles stood as well. They would find no answers here. Together the two men left, leaving Todd to flirt with the serving woman.

Grady rode through the dark streets, his mind on the results of his and Charles’s search. Overall, it had been a good day. He had no doubt that they would soon know the whereabouts of his solicitor’s manservant and Hattie’s family. Money talked. And Grady had made sure each person he and Charles had spoken with knew they were willing to pay well for information.

Nearing home, he spurred his mount faster, suddenly eager to return to those awaiting him. It didn’t matter that they would be in bed, for they were there. He was no longer alone. After nine years of wandering, never belonging, he’d come home. He didn’t ever plan to leave again.

Unless war broke out. Then he would have to fight for what he believed in. After talking to people all day, he could already imagine a war between the South and North, pro-slave states against those who wanted freedom for all. But that would mean family against family, friend against friend.

Already, arguments of rights, escalating skirmishes along the Missouri and Kansas borders and talk of war were rampant. The Dred Scott case—a slave who was suing in the courts for freedom—was yet another example of the turning tide.

And that tide worried Grady—especially heading as it was for war. He’d seen enough battles, and had given a good share of his adult life to the military. Now all he wanted was peace, time to learn who he’d become and figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. For the first time, his military career meant nothing to him. He had a daughter to raise. And a woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life loving.

A woman who doesn’t want me to fall in love with her.

Tipping his head back, he stared up into the night sky. A few pinpoints of light peeked out from the incoming clouds.

Star Dreamer.
She was his star. She had shattered his darkness, filled the empty void his life had become and left him with an overwhelming desire to live again. He wanted to reach out and touch her, and not just her body, but her soul. He wanted
her.
All of her.

Arriving home, he wasn’t surprised when Zeb met him at the carriage house and insisted on seeing to his horse, despite the late hour. The man wanted to be helpful. He gratefully handed over the reins. Wondering if the other two brothers were waiting up for him, he shook his head as they appeared. He dismissed both.

“Lord, it’s been a long day.” The market, Star’s ordeal, their kiss, all seemed like it had happened years ago rather than hours. Wanting nothing more than to forget everything, to climb into bed and sleep, he started up the stairs, then hesitated, his eyes shifting to the sitting room. He stepped inside without bothering to turn on a lamp. Clasping his hands behind his back, he stared at Margaret Mary’s portrait.

The kiss he and Star had shared in this room had destroyed once and for all the grip his past had on him. He stopped in front of the mantel, knowing it was time to take Maggie’s portrait down and get on with his life. Strange, how good it felt to let go of the pain and anger. Only since returning home had he realized he’d been so angry that she’d died and left him.

She left me.

The words burned in his mind.
Margaret Mary left me.
As had his parents.

With sudden insight, Grady finally admitted to himself that he’d been hiding from himself all these years, running from the pain of grief. He’d never been able to deal with his own anger and feelings of betrayal that those he’d loved had always left him. His sister Ida had been right when, so long ago, she’d accused him of running.

The army had been the perfect place to hide, to deny all emotion except grief. But anger was a part of grief, and the part he’d refused to acknowledge. Until now.

He rocked back on his heels, stunned by the self-revelation. Love had been the answer all along. Love for his daughters. Love for Star.

Love had made it possible to accept Margaret Mary’s death, to rejoice in the daughters she’d given him and let go of the rage that had filled him for so long. Love had made it possible for him to forgive her for leaving him.

“Forgive
me,
Margaret Mary,” he whispered. “I thought you’d betrayed me, just as my parents did when they died. Your death seemed the final betrayal. I ran. When you needed me to be strong, I let you down…and I’m so sorry.” He’d turned his back on their children.

Once he was back in the army, it’d been easy to pretend that his absence from home was temporary. Just one more assignment. Now, after a lifetime of running, he yearned for a future filled with love and hope. A future with the woman who’d brought light back into his life and given him back his dreams. No more running.

Now it was his turn to give Star back her dreams. Then they could hope for a future together. But how? There had to be a way to banish the demons that were slowly destroying her.

“God rest, Margaret Mary. You’ll always hold a special place in my heart.” Though he couldn’t see her, he felt a warm glow inside. He knew his decision would have pleased her. Feeling light of heart, he left the room and headed up the stairs. Halfway up, he spotted a small figure huddled next to the wooden banister at the top.

He stopped just below Morning Moon. “Child, what are you doing up so late?”

Troubled dark eyes held his. “Renny is sad. I was waiting for you.”

Grady sighed. It hadn’t taken but seconds after Renny ran off for him to regret his harshness and realize he hadn’t handled the situation well. He wasn’t in the military anymore, and expecting a child to obey blindly all the time wasn’t realistic—especially if that child was Renny. And truthfully, she wasn’t a willfully bad or disobedient child.

But where did he draw the line? Her own safety was at stake, and until he knew more of what was happening, he had to do what was necessary to protect her.

You could have told her why,
a small voice scolded.

She’s a child,
he argued.

A child who knows a good deal of what’s going on.
His stomach clenched at the sudden realization that she’d overheard everything he’d said out there in the carriage house. Why hadn’t he thought of that earlier? Now she’d had all evening to worry and fret over the danger he suspected Star and Hattie were in. He sat down heavily on the stairs. “I shouldn’t have yelled at her. I should have given her my reasons.”
I should have made sure she knows I’ll protect her and Star and Hattie. And Morning Moon.

Morning Moon looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Do you know why I asked you both to stay inside? Did Renny tell you what she overheard?”

“No. But I know my mother’s had visions.”

Grady took a deep breath. “You know she’s worried about you having them too. Have you?”

She met his gaze boldly, suddenly looking much older and wiser than her eight years. “There is danger. I sense it.”

“Have you talked to your mother about it?”

“No. It would only upset her.” Morning Moon lowered her eyes.

Grady reached out and tipped up her small, rounded chin. She looked so much like Star Dreamer, it was a little disturbing. “Child, you might hurt her far more with your silence. You are not protecting her. She needs to know.” He held up his hand when she protested.

“It won’t be easy. Facing our fears and being truthful is scary. I more than anyone else know this to be true. But until we face facts, we cannot come to terms with ourselves and change. Talk to her.”

Morning Moon sat in thoughtful silence for a moment. Then she smiled. “You are wise, father of Weshawee. I will talk to
ina.
She worries. But this was meant to be. My gift will serve our people someday.”

“All right. Good girl. Now, up to bed.”

Morning Moon nodded and pulled a broken wooden box from behind her. “Weshawee wanted to give you this. A gift.”

Grady recognized the box as the one Renny had fled with from the carriage house. He hesitated to take it. “Maybe she doesn’t want me to have it now.”

Serious eyes held his. “It is meant for you.”

Taking the small wooden box, he noted the freshly broken lid and side. It looked as though it had been thrown or kicked. With self-loathing at what he’d inadvertently put his daughter through, Grady clutched the gift. Without saying a word, Morning Moon got to her feet and left him.

Back in his den, he lit a lamp so he could see clearly and removed the box’s lid. It was stuffed full of papers. One by one, he pulled out letters and drawings. As he went through them, glancing at some, reading others, the years slid past. Each piece in the box reflected Renny at a different age. Down at the bottom were drawings, some no more than lines scribbled on paper—Renny’s first endeavors, saved no doubt by his sister.

There were also small stones and other tiny treasures. She’d saved them all, and had planned to give these treasures to him. He leaned back in his chair, feeling awful. She’d probably disobeyed him to get her box from her hiding spot in the carriage house, and for that he’d yelled at and punished her.

Guilt ripped through his heart. Leaving the den after dousing the lamp, he hurried up the stairs and entered her bedroom. His hands were clammy as he silently made his way to her bed. Originally, after seeing Morning Moon, he’d planned to talk to his daughter first thing in the morning. Now, it couldn’t wait.

“Renny is sad.”
Star’s daughter’s words tore at him.

He moved to Renny’s bed. His heart lurched when he found it empty.

Sensing someone, he whipped around.

Morning Moon watched him from her bed on the other side of the room. She pointed at the ceiling. He furrowed his brows in confusion—until he remembered. “Of course,” he said softly, heading for the door. “Thank you.”

“Renny needs her father.” The words were soft.

That gave him pause. This girl had lost hers. “And what about you?” He’d never given thought to her loss or the pain with which she must still be trying to deal. He felt selfish and self-centered for not considering that.

She smiled in a way that reminded him of her mother and raised the gooseflesh along his arms. “Renny is my sister.” With that odd statement, she climbed beneath the covers.

But the implication wasn’t lost on him. Because of her closeness to Renny, she regarded him as a father. He felt honored. Grady lit the lamp on the bedside table, then carried it with him to the door. Morning Moon’s sleepy voice stopped him. “She really likes the horse painting.”

He laughed. Would that make everything up to his daughter? A painting? “You are as wise as your mother, young lady.” With that, he climbed the stairs slowly to the third floor, his mind whirling, trying to sort out everything that had hit him in one short day. And how his life would change. If he managed to convince Star to marry him, he’d have two daughters—and a son. He paused on the landing, liking the image that brought to mind.

Stepping into Margaret Mary’s studio, Grady held the lamp high. Renny lay huddled along the wall beneath a quilt. An untouched supper tray lay next to her. Several canvases drew his attention. He’d forgotten all about them. Squatting, he studied them, smiled sadly at the one of Emma, then shook his head at the painting Morning Moon had mentioned.

Setting his lamp down, he scooped his daughter into his arms. She stirred, yawning sleepily, then opened her eyes. “I didn’t disobey—exactly,” she said. “You hadn’t left yet, and you said I had to stay inside while you were gone. Are you going to yell at me for not staying in my bedroom?”

Grady blinked. “No, sweetheart. Never again.”

Renny sighed and giggled. She wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled close. “Yeah, you will.”

He chuckled, too, then. “Yeah, probably so. But only because I love you. Never, never forget that, child.”

She opened her eyes, then glanced around her. “You’re not mad ’cause I came up here, are you?”

“Of course not. You can come up here any time you want.”

Renny yawned again. “Truly?”

An idea formed in Grady’s mind. “Truly. After I hire someone to clean it. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Come on. Let’s get you tucked into bed. You feel like a block of ice.”

“Okay.”

Lamp in hand, he carried her back to her bed and tucked her in. Then he headed for his own room. As he sat on one side of his bed, a soft sigh from the other startled him. He spun and stared.

There in his bed, snuggled beneath the thick pile of quilts, Star Dreamer lay asleep. Leaning over, he shook her gently. “Star?” He smoothed the silky strands of black hair from her face and ran his fingers down along her jaw.

She stretched, then smiled up at him. “You’re home. Did you find Renny? I didn’t want to leave her up there, but she didn’t want to come down.”

He smiled. “Yes, she’s in bed. But what about you? What are you doing in my room…in my bed?”

She sobered, her gaze intense. “I belong here.”

Grady’s heart raced. Her words soothed the ache in his heart.
She belongs here, with me. Today and tomorrow. Forever.

But no matter how much his body longed to take what she offered, he couldn’t. Not yet. “I’m not sure having you here is such a good idea. I want you, make no mistake, but you have to be sure, Star. Very sure,” he finished, then waited.

Stay,
his mind begged.
Stay. Love me. Be mine forever.
The plea from his heart and soul reverberated loudly within him, but he didn’t dare scare her away by saying the words aloud. How he wanted her to stay the night, and the next and every one thereafter—yet he had to be sure she knew to what she was committing herself.

“I need you. And you need me,” she answered, shifting onto her side and moving toward the center of the bed—closer to him.

“Star—”

She lifted her hand and pressed her fingers to his lips. “I’m sure, Grady. I don’t want to be, but I
am.
”

Taking her hand in his, he kissed her fingertips, curled her fingers over his and rubbed his jaw with the backs of her fingers. “I love you, sweetheart. We belong together.” And with that he closed the gap between them.