The River Rose (21 page)

As the routine shaped up, Roberty became, in essence, Jeanne's and Marvel's servant, bringing hot water and meals, washing their linens, cleaning the cabin every single day that Jeanne was piloting, and taking her coffee and tea when she was in the pilothouse. He also started studying with Marvel, for when she found out he couldn't read she started bossing him shamelessly about lessons.

For Jeanne, it was a curiously dual life. On board the
Rose
she was the pilot, and she rarely spent much time at all with the crew. Evenings, of course, were spent with Marvel when they were on a run. But always, when they came back to Memphis, George Masters was waiting. Jeanne would spend at least one day with him, for they usually took a two-day layover. She no longer worried about Marvel staying on the boat, for Ezra and Roberty had come to care for her so well that Jeanne thought it was as if Marvel had a brother and a grandfather. Clint and Vince also took good care of Marvel, but they weren't always on the boat at night. Jeanne assumed they went out to saloons every night, which bothered her, but she decided that as long as they weren't drunk and rowdy on the boat, it was really none of her business. Her business was Marvel, and the
Helena Rose
, and George Masters.

Thinking these thoughts as she steered the boat around Island Number 60 and came in sight of Helena, she wondered if she were getting her priorities straight. Naturally her first concern was always Marvel. But what about George Masters? How important was he to her? He seemed to be a big part of her life, and Jeanne knew that he was falling in love with her. But what exactly were her feelings toward him? She was physically attracted to him, she enjoyed his company, he had been a terrific sponsor of the
Helena Rose
, and however offhand George Masters may be about his money, it was definitely a plus for Jeanne. None of those things, however, said one thing about her feelings for him. Jeanne admitted to herself that she just didn't know her own heart. It had been closed off for so long that she thought it may never be tender and open to a man's love again.

HELENA
,
ARKANSAS
,
WAS A riverboat town. As more and more steamboats plied the Ol' Mississippi, it quickly became an important landing. Conveniently situated between Memphis and Vicksburg, Tennessee, with a thriving lumber industry, steamboats made their wood stops at Helena as the larger cities and the areas around them quickly got deforested. Helena always had plenty of wood at a good price, and as George Masters had observed, any finished goods were easy to sell in the growing town. By 1830 Helena's docks were as busy as Memphis's.

Where the river is, there will always be thieves, gamblers, prostitutes, panderers, and other assorted outlaws. In 1835 the upright citizens of Helena formed the Helena Anti-Gambling Society, and soon after that the Helena Temperance Society, and they elected strict High Sheriffs that hired no-nonsense deputies, and the town got civilized. By the time Jeanne was driving the
Helena Rose
, Helena had three newspapers, six private schools, thirteen churches, four subscription libraries, and twice-monthly public lectures.

Of course, where the river is, there are also rivermen. Therefore, there must be saloons, and drinking, and gambling, and prostitutes, and thieves. Such a tide might be stemmed but not stopped, even in Helena. Clint and Vince had found three saloons the first time they'd stopped overnight in the town, on Jeanne's trial run. All three were grim-looking shacks huddled at the end of the waterfront in a line with a rundown inn, two tobacco and liquor stores, a couple of brothels thinly disguised as boardinghouses, and a sad-looking and scanty grocery. Clint and Vince went to the first one, farthest down the docks, but Clint stopped dead in front of the propped-open sagging door and sniffed. "Is that horse manure? How come a saloon smells like horse manure?" he complained.

"I don't wanna know," Vince said. "C'mon, let's go try the Hairpin Bend Tavern. I like the name," he added hopefully.

They stood in front of the Hairpin Bend Tavern, considering it. "It has a window," Vince said. "It's not even broken or anything."

The door burst open, and a man came staggering out, clutching a half-empty whiskey bottle. He stared at Vince and Clint, said, "Huh? Whadja say?", sunk to his knees, then toppled over like a chopped tree, face-forward, arms sprawled out.

Vince and Clint looked at each other. "Huh-uh," Clint said. They turned and walked two buildings down to a saloon cleverly named Island No. 60, the riverman's landmark for Helena. It had two windows, with neither of them broken, which was a hopeful sign, and as they hesitated at the doorway no one came out and fell down. They went in.

It was like a thousand other saloons in a hundred other river towns, with thick tobacco smoke and liquor reek on the heavy air. On the right was a bar, with men "bellied up," one foot propped on the brass rail below. On the left were tables, all with rough-looking men sitting at them, drinking and talking about the river. Only one table had a poker game going, and the four men seemed sober and subdued. Clint and Vince had stayed and had a couple of beers, but they were accustomed to other, friendlier watering places and soon they went back to the boat. On the next couple of trips they didn't return to Island Number 60.

But the day was cheery, and cool, not cold, and they had docked at about three o'clock, so Clint and Vince decided to give Island Number 60 another try. As they walked down the waterfront to the slums at the far southern end, Clint said, "I'm going to stop in the tobacconist's and get the papers."

"Why do you buy papers for her?" Vince asked. "She doesn't appreciate it, Clint."

"Yeah, she does. She always thanks me. Well, almost always."

Vince shook his head. "I don't get it. She puts on airs and she treats you like a servant. It's not right."

"I don't think it's really putting on airs. I think she's really had a tough time, and she's had no one to depend on or to help her, and so she just keeps herself to herself. And she treats me fine."

"She sure doesn't treat you like other women do. She's not all gaga over you. Bothers you, doesn't it?"

"Nah, she's crazy about me," Clint said loftily. "She just doesn't know it yet." He ducked into the dank tobacconist's and came back out holding the
Helena Daily World
. He glanced at the folded-up bottom half of the first page and murmured, "Hey, look at this."

Vince craned his neck to see a small headline below the fold: THE STEAMBOAT
HELENA ROSE
RETURNS HOME WITH A LADY PILOT! The article was written by a lady named Mrs. Honoria Putnam, and was fulsome and fruity. The first paragraph read:

Many of the esteemed citizens of Helena will remember the
Helena Rose
, the steamer owned by Mr. Ira Hardin, who was married to our favorite daughter, Rose Dulany. After Mrs. Hardin's bitterly tragic death we sorely missed both of our "Roses" terribly. Mr. Ira Hardin recently passed on to a Better Place, and joined his Beloved Rose, but his stout riverboatman's spirit still plies the Grand Old Mississippi in the
Helena Rose
, now owned, captained, and PILOTED by Mrs. Jeanne Bettencourt, the first FEMALE PILOT on the Mississippi River!

The article went on to fulminate about Captain Jeanne's DARING and HARDY PIONEER SPIRIT as she conquered the Mississippi River, apparently single-handedly. It went on to list the
Rose'
s stops, and the fact that she was entrusted with the mail, and how dedicated Captain Jeanne was in plying the treacherous river, toiling to faithfully deliver the mail near and far.

"This is kinda making me nauseated," Vince joked. "It's like when you eat too much candy."

"Aw, man, Jeanne's gonna be steamed," Clint groaned. "I don't think I'm going to give her this paper."

"Why not?" Vince said cheerfully. "Captain Jeanne's famous now." He placed one hand over his heart and flung out the other arm as he recited sonorously, "As the valiant Captain Jeanne toils, under heavy burdens of care, in the driving snow, alone, without friend or boiler or engine, just she and the
Helena Rose
—"

"Vinnie," Clint said, grinning, "Shut up."

They went down to Island Number 60, which was quiet this early in the afternoon. Six men stood at the bar, tossing back shots of whiskey and spitting into a nearly full spittoon. A dozen men were scattered around the tables. Clint and Vinnie stood at the bar and the bartender, a big bruiser as they always seemed to be in these kinds of saloons, came up to them, polishing a glass. He had black hair parted down the middle and greased with macassar oil, and close-set eyes in a round, red-cheeked face. "G'day to you gentlemen. What'll you have?"

They ordered beers, and Clint spread the paper out on the bar. "You know, it was kinda sad about Ira Hardin. Ezra told me a lot about him. He was a rompin', stompin' pilot until he met this Rose Dulany here in Helena, and they got married. That's when he had the
Helena Rose
built. Seems like she really gentled him down, that's when he started running the Arkansas River. Ezra said he was a snorting bull—that's why they nicknamed him—but with Rose he was as gentle as a spring lamb. After she died a couple of years ago, he went back to his old river rat ways. Ezra said he was only thirty-five when he died. That's kinda sad, isn't it?"

The bartender set down two mugs brimming with beer, and they took appreciative sips. "Good beer," Clint said to the bartender.

"Thank you, sir. I heard you talking about the
Helena Rose
. Did you two know Bull Hardin?" he asked.

"Never knew the man, I'm sorry to say. He was a distant cousin of mine, and he left me half of the
Rose.
" Clint pointed to the newspaper and went on, "But it seems like Mrs. Putnam missed my story."

"Mrs. Putnam," the bartender said disdainfully. "You orter be glad she don't have you in her sights, mister. So, you work the
Rose
? I heard she just came in."

"I'm the engineer, and Vince here is a deckhand," Clint said.

"And you two have a lady pilot," the bartender said thoughtfully. "Is that—"

Vince had noticed four men further down the bar who had been listening to the conversation, grinning and punching each other. They were working men, probably roustabouts or deckhands, dressed in coarse dirty clothes, unshaven, with dirty stringy hair topped by greasy floppy hats. Now one of them loudly interrupted the bartender. "Hey, you two boys! Did I hear right? We got two crewmen from the famous
Helena Rose
here?"

Warily, Clint answered, "That's right," then turned back to the bartender.

But the man, who was missing his two upper front teeth and all four lower front teeth, kept on calling down the bar in his nasal voice. "Whew-ee! Ain't you got a mutt's life! Got a female pilot! What's she do there, boy, flash her knickers when she wants more steam?" The four of them snorted loudly with laughter.

Clint stood upright, took four steps down the bar, pulled back his right fist, and planted a bone-crunching right cross on the man's jaw. He flew backwards a couple of feet, and crashed to the ground. The other three were still standing there dumbfounded, staring down at him, when Clint planted another right on another jaw, and he went down. By this time the other two had waked up, and they grabbed Clint's arms, and one of them bit Clint's ear. Vince reached them, and as quick as a snake, did a vicious head-butt to the biting man. A general scuffle ensued.

Clint was sitting on top of one of the men, banging away at his face, when from behind two men grabbed his arms and hauled him to his feet. A couple of feet away from him another deputy grabbed Vince, who had his nearly unconscious man against the wall, belting him in the belly.

The saloon grew very quiet. Standing behind the two deputies holding Clint was a tall man with a bronzed leather face and black eyes, wearing a big silver star pinned to his chest. In a voice like gravel he said, "My name is Hank Burnett, and I'm the sheriff. Now boys, I know you ain't from around here, so you ain't had time to learn the rules. We don't like this kind of thing here in Helena. This is a nice town, with good folks, and they elected me to keep the peace. And that's what I intend to do, and that's why ever one of you fools is under arrest."