Wilderness Courtship (11 page)

“Long as she don’t fuss at me,” the cook said with a huff. He pointed. “Book’s over there in that drawer. Have a look-see. Just make it snappy and be sure you put it back like it was when you’re through.”

“Certainly.”

Thorne draped the slicker over his shoulders as if it were his and retrieved the ledger. Large lamps swung from the rafters, just as they had on his ship. He braced his feet on the still-pitching deck and oriented himself to the light to read.

He scanned the list twice. Nowhere did it mention anyone named Cyrus Satterfield occupying a cabin. Either the man was lying about his accommodations or he’d been lying about his name. Or both.

Chapter Eleven

T
he
Grand Republic
had hoisted anchor and headed back out to sea that morning as the weather had cleared and the sun had begun to peek over the hills to the east.

Although the paddle wheeler had continued to skirt the coast as before, she’d occasionally had to pull farther from shore for safety’s sake, or so Thorne had explained.

Charity didn’t care what the boat did as long as it continued to steam steadily northward. She knew they’d make stops along the way to pick up and deliver more mail and freight but she didn’t want to delay any longer than was absolutely necessary.

Now that Naomi had recovered from her seasickness during the storm and was acting healthier, the poor woman had resumed her previous state of befuddlement, much to Charity’s dismay.

Jacob had gotten to the point where he seldom tried to converse with his mother, preferring to bring his needs and interests to Charity’s attention, instead. She understood why. She just wished he could relate better to his own mama.

Keeping the restless, curious child occupied was far more difficult aboard the steamer than it had been on land. Finally, in desperation, Charity had insisted they take regular turns around the passenger deck as a group, weather permitting.

To her surprise and delight, Thorne had chosen to join them. It was a true relief to have an extra pair of eyes watching the rambunctious little boy. Jacob seldom met a stranger and he got into more than his share of mischief. He also delighted in finding older adults to talk to and had to be reined in quite often. It seemed as if he never tired, never slowed down except to sleep.

The farther north the
Grand Republic
took them, the more rainy and cloudy the weather became. Because Charity was used to the moderate temperatures in San Francisco, this part of the country chilled her to the bone. If she had not had the exuberant child and her other chores to occupy her mind, she feared the dank weather would have seriously dampened her spirits, as well.

Sitting on deck with Naomi and watching Thorne and Jacob play tag like two children, Charity couldn’t help smiling. In her mind’s eye she could see that Thorne would make a fine father some day. He was firm but patient, never too busy to explain anything the little boy asked about.

When Jacob dashed up to her, grabbed her hand and tried to tug her to the railing, she laughed. “What’s so important, dear?”

“The big river! Come look. We’re almost there!”

Charity stood, wrapped the too-large overcoat more tightly around her and urged Naomi to come along. “It must be the mouth of the Columbia,” she told the other woman. “That means our journey at sea is nearly over. Aren’t you excited? Let’s go see.”

Although Naomi rose, Charity could tell she wasn’t totally comprehending. What a pity. All Charity could hope for at this point was that the presence of Naomi’s mother and father would help restore her to the whole person she had been before Aaron’s abduction.

Charity sighed. Even if Naomi didn’t recover, at least dear little Jacob would be with grandparents who would love him. If she had thought otherwise, she would have wept for him constantly.

Taking a place beside Thorne at the starboard railing, Charity smiled. He had scooped up the child and was pointing to a broad expanse of water in the distance.

“Over there,” Thorne said. “See how the color is different? That’s where the fresh water and saltwater come together.”

Charity shaded her eyes against the sun’s glare. “It’s so wide. I never would have imagined anything so large being a river. It looks more like an extension of the ocean.”

“Parts of it are saltwater, depending on the tide,” he said. “Larger ships have to wait for high tides to sail across the bar or they may go aground on the shifting sand. It can be treacherous.”

“Once they get across are they safe?”

“Yes, except for the storms that arise so often up here.”

“I can see that sailing is a terribly dangerous occupation,” Charity said with concern. “I shall worry about you from now on.”

Speaking from the heart without censoring her thoughts, she realized belatedly that he was staring at her. She met his compelling gaze.

“Will you? Truly?” he asked quietly.

“Of course.”

“I believe you mean that.”

Totally absorbed in the tenderness of his expression, she was unable to make herself look away. She had to pause for several heartbeats to gather her wits before she said, “Of course I do.”

“As I will also worry about you. This has been the easy part of our journey,” Thorne said soberly. “From now on it may be even more hazardous. I wish…”

Charity could only imagine what he had been going to say. “What?” she asked. “What do you wish?”

Her slim hand was resting on the railing. Thorne shifted Jacob to the opposite side, then placed his hand over Charity’s as he said, “I wish I had not urged you to come with us.”

Startled, she stared. “Because you think me incompetent?”

“No.” His brow furrowed, his dark gaze growing even more enthralling. “Because you have become so important to me, Miss Beal.”

Before she could form a coherent reply he’d released her hand and stepped back.

“Forgive me,” he said formally. “I had no right to speak to you that way. It was unseemly.”

But lovely,
she added to herself.
So lovely.
She would not encourage him by expressing that thought, of course. To do so would be unfair. She was never going to allow herself to remarry and accepting anything less was unthinkable.

Still, she told herself, turning away to gaze at the entrance to the mighty Columbia River gorge, if she ever were to consider giving another man a special place in her heart, that man would have to be a lot like Thorne Blackwell.

It had been easy to befriend him, she admitted. And to trust him as an ally. But there was far more to marriage than standing at the railing of a steamboat and having a pleasant conversation. It wasn’t the overt parts of a relationship she feared, it was the hidden parts, the intimacies she knew she could never again bear, no matter how tender her husband’s touch might be.

The mere thought of being under a man’s control gave her the shivers and made her stomach turn. Four years ago, she had sworn she would never again allow herself to become anyone else’s possession. Anyone’s chattel. There was much in life which confused her but about
that,
she was adamant.

“I’ll take Jacob back to your cabin. Will you see to Naomi?” Thorne asked.

Charity nodded. She wouldn’t look at him, couldn’t look at him, because she was certain her anguish and abhorrence would show and he was not deserving of resentment. If anything, knowing him had given her a glimmer of hope that she might someday overcome the reservations which continued to govern her.

Unshed tears gathered in her eyes and blurred the image of the wooded coastline. What kind of a Christian was she when it was her fondest wish that Ramsey Tucker was presently burning in Hades? God might have removed him from her life but He had not provided the strength to forgive. Without divine help, Charity knew she would always hate her late husband with a vengeance that made her literally ill.

Did she
want
to forgive him? she asked herself. Or was she purposely dwelling on the sordid memories of him to reinforce her loathing and keep from having to go on with life in a normal manner?

She scowled. For the first time in years she was starting to question her motives, her abject hatred. The conviction that that doubt brought with it was hard to accept.

It was far easier to continue to hate, she realized, than it was to consider putting her sad past behind her. Assuming she actually wanted to, was it possible? Did she want to try? Surely not.

Charity closed her eyes and thought of parts of the prayer her mother had taught her so long ago. “And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,” she whispered. That was the key, wasn’t it? And that was exactly what she was
not
doing.

“But he hurt me so,” she murmured, her words lost on the sea wind, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks.

Still standing next to her, Naomi reached out and gently patted Charity’s hand. The gesture was fleeting and without explanation, yet Charity felt as if it were a sign from God, as if He were saying to her, “Now you see. Now you can begin to heal.”

The sensation of peace and tranquility was so unexpected Charity’s knees nearly buckled. She grabbed the railing and held on tightly. A peek at Naomi showed no change in her blank expression, yet apparently the Lord had used her to convey His support.

Awed and ashamed, Charity stopped trying to contain her tears and let them flow freely. As they fell, she felt as if they were cleansing her all the way to her soul.

She was sniffling, regaining control of her raw emotions and preparing to escort Naomi inside when the other woman turned, embraced her tenderly and began to pat her on the back the way a mother would comfort a distressed child.

“Don’t be sad,” Naomi said. “God loves you. My mama says so.”

If Charity could have found her voice to answer at that moment she would not have known what else to add.

The enormous mouth of the Columbia was crowded with ships and boats of all sizes and shapes, including rustic dugout canoes, some large enough to transport dozens of blanket-wrapped Indians all at once.

Charity had heard of Indian canoes, of course, but had never dreamed any were so large and imposing. To her surprise and relief, the canoe riders seemed more interested in selling or trading fish, fowl and baskets full of fresh oysters than in causing mayhem or injury. Their shouts for attention were mostly in an unfamiliar tongue but judging by the way they were gesturing and displaying their wares, Charity had no doubt of their aims.

Beside her, Thorne pointed to the shoreline. “There’s Astoria. See it? We’ll change boats and proceed up the Columbia River to the Cowlitz before we start out overland.”

“I understand your wish for haste,” she said, “but wouldn’t it be easier to continue on this steamer and take the coastal route all the way to Puget Sound?”

“Easier, perhaps,” Thorne said soberly. “Not necessarily wise. We already know we have at least one enemy on board, maybe more. The sooner we thin the crowd and start to travel alone, the safer we’ll be.”

“That is a valid point,” Charity said with a nod. “I was talking with one of the other women passengers, a Mrs. Yantis, whose husband owns a sawmill up in Olympia. She told me how much more tedious the journey by sea can be.”

“You didn’t reveal anything about us or our plans, did you?”

“Of course not.” Charity gave him her best scowl. “I had to physically drag Naomi away from the conversation because she kept wanting to tell the woman about her missionary parents, though. I assume that’s the kind of careless talk you were referring to?”

“Among other things. Once we reach land we may as well resume the use of our real names.” A wry smile began to lift one corner of his mouth as he said, “I keep forgetting whether I’m supposed to be a Smith or a Jones, anyway.”

Charity laughed lightly. “I know what you mean. I haven’t concealed my last name but it is hard to remember how to address you and the rest of your family.”

She sobered. “I suppose we’re only fooling ourselves, since someone obviously already knows who you, Jacob and Naomi really are.”

“Or they wouldn’t have tried to harm her? You’re right. Subterfuge seems pretty useless at this point.”

“You know,” Charity said, pursing her lips and striking the pose of a thinker, “it seems to me that our trouble has followed us from San Francisco. Therefore, I have to also assume that whoever is causing the grief must have come from there, too.”

“Only if you also assume that our nemesis followed me and Aaron’s family from New York harbor, and that’s impossible. The
Gray Feather
carried no other passengers and was already fully manned. I would have known immediately if there were strangers on board.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”

Thorne nodded slowly, pensively, and drew his thumb and fingers along his jaw to the point of his chin as if smoothing a nonexistent beard. “There is no place on earth that Louis Ashton’s influence and wealth cannot reach to cause harm. No city or territory that’s too far or too remote. That’s the main reason I want to start overland as soon as it’s feasible.”

“It seems odd that a seaman such as you would be so eager to start walking.”

Thorne smiled at her. “I have no plans to walk. We’ll ride horses when we have to and employ small boats as much as possible, including hiring Indian canoes, if you and Naomi have no objections.”

Her eyes widened and her hand went to her throat in a natural gesture of self-protection. “Oh, dear. Are you sure that’s safe?”

“I won’t do it if I’m not assured so by local people. Captain Nash is convinced these Indians on the Columbia are friendly but I want more than one man’s word on it. I’ll go ashore in Astoria and see about immediate passage up the river as far as Rainier. From there we’ll follow the Cowlitz, as I said.”

“What about provisions. If I need to start cooking I shall need proper equipment and foodstuffs.” She glanced at the Indian canoes, reluctant to buy from them when there was such a serious language barrier.

“There’s supposed to be a good merchant at Rainier. We’ll either get what we need from him or from the store up the river at Cowlitz landing. Don’t worry. I told you I have this all planned out.”

“So, I see.” She had to smile to herself at Thorne’s overconfident attitude. Although he was cautious and thoughtful to a fault, she knew that the slightest change of circumstance could upset his well-laid plans like a bushel of apples in the bed of a runaway wagon. She had been through enough trials, experienced enough surprises, good and bad, to know that man’s plans in the face of nature and providence were often laughable.

They had already weathered storms at sea and had coped with Naomi’s continuing illness. Whatever was to come was unknown and might easily negate any sensible choices they made at present.