Flora's Wish (27 page)

Flora shrugged. “You said yourself I was in your personal custody. I'll take Natchez over the Eureka Springs jail any day.”

“No attempts to contact Tucker to warn him you're leaving?”

“No,” she said solemnly. “If Mr. Tucker wants to contact me, he will.”

And he will.

“All right.” Mr. McMinn's expression indicated he still had doubts. “I figure it's just better if you and I travel with the maids. It saves the issue of reputation and gives me someone to keep an eye on you when I can't.”

“Of course,” Flora said. “Though you have my word I will not try to escape.”

“In transit or once we get to Natchez?” he asked as his gaze swept over her.

She shrugged as she affected her most innocent look. “Mr. McMinn, I know you're a lawman, but truly you should stop being so suspicious. I want Mr. Tucker found as much as you do.”

The truth. What she didn't mention was that unlike him, she had no doubt Mr. Tucker would be found. And likely married to her very soon.

T
he three-fifty train from Eureka Springs allowed passengers to check into the Pullman sleeping car and travel without changing trains all the way to St. Louis. This had proven to be a lifesaver for Lucas. Without having to worry that Miss Brimm or one of her maids might try to escape during a stop, Lucas was free to get a precious few hours of sleep.

At least that was the theory.

“You understand,” he said, “that there's nowhere to run on this train?”

She stood her ground, and for that he had to give her credit. “George,” she called to the Pullman porter, “when you get a chance, could you turn down my bunk? I'm so tired I could fall asleep right now and not wake up until we get to St. Louis.”

“Yes, ma'am,” the uniformed fellow said with a grin. “Just let me get a couple of folks settled on the other side of this car, and I'll be back to take good care of you.”

Flora Brimm looked up at Lucas, her blue eyes wide and her expression as innocent as a woman that beautiful could manage. “Now, what was it you were saying about running?”

An image of those same eyes looking up at him while she danced in the rain jolted him, followed quickly by the remainder of how soft her hair felt in his hand. How close he came to kissing her.

“Nothing,” he managed.

“All right. I'll see you in St. Louis.”

Miss Brimm quietly slipped behind the curtains of her sleeper compartment, and he didn't hear from her again the remainder of the day. Sometime after the evening meal was served, he sent a maid in to check on her, but the woman returned with news that Miss Brimm was attempting to sleep. A similar result came a few hours later when another maid was sent in to check on why Miss Brimm did not wish to eat the meal that was offered.

When the train finally arrived at the depot in St. Louis, Lucas breathed a sigh of relief. Then, as he always did, he tucked away the small sense of victory of getting this far safely and began planning for the next step of the mission to capture the individual he was pursuing.

This part of the journey would be the most tricky as he had little control over the goings-on aboard the steamboat. He could hardly confine Miss Brimm to her quarters, though he intended to highly encourage she remain there.

Now, however, he had to get her and the maids and the luggage transported between the train station and the docks without incident. A daunting task, to say the least.

“Miss Brimm, we've arrived. You'll need to leave the train soon.”

No response.

Lucas moved closer to her compartment. “Miss Brimm?”

“I heard you,” she said without moving the curtain.

“And?”

“And I will leave the train…soon.”

“I'll just go see to the luggage. Please don't dawdle, though. We have a schedule to keep, and though I know you're Flora Brimm of the Natchez Brimms, I doubt the captain of the steamboat will wait for your late arrival.”

He stood near the curtain for another minute and heard nothing but silence. Shaking his head, he made his way toward the exit.

He stepped off the train into the St. Louis depot with his usual amount of caution. Though he'd never been ambushed in a rail station, there was always a first time.

He glanced around for the Pullman porter and found he'd already collected all the luggage and piled it neatly together. “Thank you, George,” he said as he gave the man a generous tip. “And thank you for helping me keep tabs on the ladies.”

The porter grinned. “You did all the work, sir. All I did was watch to be sure none of 'em took a mind to leave the train before it came to a stop here in St. Louis.”

“That's true, I suppose.” Lucas spied the maids gathering near the pile of trunks and bags.

After waiting as patiently as he could, he finally motioned for one of the women to come forward. “Please check to see if Miss Brimm will be joining us in St. Louis.”

“Yes, sir.”

A few minutes later, she returned. “Miss Brimm will be along directly, sir.”

“And when, exactly, is directly?” He pulled his watch out of his pocket to check the time. “We need to be down at the dock right now.” Again he beckoned the porter. “Might I trouble you to get the bags and those ladies into a transport so we don't miss our boat? I'm afraid I'm going to have to go in and haul out Miss Brimm by force.”

“Goodness, no!” he said, though his expression showed he knew Lucas was teasing. “Don't be claiming that. I'd have to turn you in if I saw you mistreating that wonderful lady.”

“Wonderful lady, indeed.” Shaking his head, Lucas stalked back to the Pullman palace sleeping car. “Miss Brimm,” he called. “I demand you present yourself immediately. I refuse to miss the boat just because a woman in my custody cannot ready herself in time to—”

“All right,” he heard her say from behind the curtain. “I'm coming.”

The curtains parted and she emerged. Apparently, though she had slept a great deal, she hadn't slept well, for dark circles were under her eyes. As he reached for the bag she handed him, Lucas noticed her yawning.

“Unhappy with your accommodations?” he asked as he slung the bag over his shoulder.

“No, they were fine.” Another yawn. “I just don't sleep comfortably in a strange bed. It felt as though there were lumps of coal under the mattress.”

“Like the story of the princess and the pea?” He allowed his gaze to sweep over her. “You don't look any worse for wear.”

In fact, she looked absolutely stunning. The dress she'd donned was just the right shade of blue to bring out the color in her eyes, and one of the maids had dressed her hair in some sort of fancy style that made her look like the princess he'd just teased her about.

“Thank you,” she said. “I think.”

“Ready?” he asked for lack of anything else to say. “Or are there other bags I need to carry?”

“No, that's all. I'm ready.”

Lucas followed her out of the Pullman sleeper and escorted her to a rather fine carriage pulled by a matched pair of bay mares.

“Where are the maids and all our trunks?”

“Already in route,” he said. “There was no need for them to wait while you completed your toilette this morning.”

Miss Brimm rolled her eyes as the carriage pulled away from the depot. “I'm not as regal as all that, you know. It's just that I've had the habit of traveling a particular way.”

“Is that so?”

“Grandmama had a sleeper berth designed just for me that's dark and has extra padding on the mattress so I don't feel the motion of the train as much.” Another yawn. “I'll likely sleep my way down the Mississippi, however. No trouble on steamboats unless I have too much tea before bedtime.”

He should have felt bad about his teasing, but instead Lucas counted the infirmity as a plus. If she remained in her cabin, there was little trouble she could find there.

Once they reached Natchez there would be trouble enough. Lucas had a hunch he would find more than just Will Tucker to worry about once they disembarked in Miss Brimm's hometown.

Exactly what, he hadn't yet decided. Still, he had the distinct feeling he was walking into a trap. Before he could think on it long, the carriage had pulled to a stop.

The docks teemed with life, a population overflowing with everyone from baggage handlers and dockworkers to well-dressed men and women in their finery. Women like Flora Brimm.

“All right,” he said. “Stay close.”

Lucas helped her from the carriage and kept a tight hold on her elbow as he maneuvered her around crates, persons of all colors and ages, and more than a few animals to reach the dock where the steamboat floated at anchor.

She paused to smile. “I don't believe I've traveled aboard this one before. It's lovely.”

The cabin-level entrance to the
Americus
was reached through a staircase some two stories in height. On either side of the staircase was an ornate column supporting an arch above proclaiming the vessel's name.

Oblivious to the chaos on the dock behind her, Miss Brimm swept up the stairs with only her handbag and the Bible she'd been carrying since she left the Crescent Hotel. If he hadn't been ashamed of himself for being suspicious, Lucas might have thought she was smuggling evidence of some sort inside the Good Book.

The staircase spilled out onto an oversized carpeted salon that appeared to run the length of this portion of the steamboat and most of the width. Crystal chandeliers as big as wagon wheels dotted the ceiling and marched in two rows above tables already set for what appeared to be a grand supper.

Or dinner, as Mama and Miss Brimm would have termed it.

At the far end of the room was a raised platform containing a grand piano and several stringed instruments. Apparently, meals aboard the
Americus
came with entertainment.

A balcony ran the length of the upper floor and, he assumed, allowed those with inside cabins to look down on the goings-on in the main salon. He'd already noticed the outside cabins had a promenade balcony that ringed the vessel. Given the choice between the two, the lawman would opt for neither. However, he hoped the rooms they had been assigned would offer fresh air rather than the sounds of an orchestra tuning up for the next meal.

“It's beautiful,” Miss Brimm said as she came to stand beside him. “If I didn't know better, I would think we were in a lovely hotel in Paris or London.”

“Your name and destination, please?” a steward asked as he hurried toward them.

“McMinn. We're headed to Natchez.”

The uniformed fellow looked around them and then returned his attention to Lucas. “Just the two of you, sir?”

“I suppose you could say that.” Lucas shrugged. “Two of us plus three maids and twice as many trunks.”

If the steward thought the statement unusual or rife with sarcasm, he gave no indication. Rather he made a note in the pad he carried and tucked the paper in his jacket pocket and gave a curt bow. “Do come this way, please, Mr. and Mrs. McMinn.”