The River Rose (22 page)

"
CAPTAIN JEANNE IS GOING to kill us," Vince groaned.

"She probably won't actually kill us," Clint said. "Not literally kill us dead."

"She'll make us wish we were dead."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Clint stood up and yelled at the cells at the far end. "Hey, you down there. Which one of you people bit my ear? I didn't know you had enough teeth between the four of you!"

Only low mutters sounded from the four cells; the deckhands from the
One Eyed Jack
, as it turned out they were, had definitely calmed down. All four of them were nursing cuts and scrapes, knots on their heads, black eyes, and busted lips. "Funny," Toothless said in a low voice, "I knew he was a big feller, but he 'peared like a sweet johnny. Calm and speaking low, like."

"Yeah, 'til he turned inter a big mad b'ar," the beat-up man in the next cell said. "Don't nobody tell him I'm the one what bit his ear."

"Niver seen nothin' like it," Toothless said in wonder. "One minnit I'm a-talking, and next minnit I'm flat on my back and I'm watchin' little spangly stars goin' round and round."

Clint dabbed at his ear, which was still bleeding slightly. It was the only injury he had; even his knuckles, by now hardened like anvils, weren't scraped or swollen. Vince had a big red bump on his head from his head-butt, and that was the only injury he had.

At six o'clock a grinning deputy brought them coffee and pork and beans. Clint asked, "Can you tell us what we're in here for, and how long we have to stay?"

"You fellers were disturbin' the peace," he said, hooking his fingers in his belt, which was stretched thin over a large paunch. "Penalty for that is five days in jail."

"Five days! That's kind of severe, isn't it?" Vince said.

"Yup. Sheriff Burnett, he don't hold much with fights. See, you fellers get into a brawl down on the docks, and it disturbs the peace of the good citizens of Helena, and then the Anti-Gambling Society and the Temperance Society disturbs the peace of the sheriff."

"But we weren't gambling! And we only had one beer that we didn't even finish!" Clint protested.

"Well, them is some circumstances, all right. But it don't matter, disturbing the peace carries a five-day jail sentence. I got you some good news, though," he told them with another huge grin. He was enjoying himself enormously. "Your bail is set for five dollars each, and there's been a nice lady here that's paid it. Howsomever, you still have to stay overnight. You'll get out in the morning." He left, going back into the office.

"She was nice?" Vince said blankly.

"Yeah," Clint said thoughtfully. "How'd that happen?"

Clint hardly slept all night, because the mattress on his cot was hard and lumpy, and it smelled atrocious. Finally dawn came and the same grinning deputy came in and unlocked their cells. "Miz Bettencourt done vouched for you and filled out all the papers, so the rest of your sentence is suspended. Might better spruce up a little there, she's a-waiting for you."

There wasn't any "sprucing-up" to be done in the bare cells, so Clint and Vinnie followed the deputy into the sheriff's office. Sheriff Burnett was standing next to Jeanne, his arms crossed, and she looked at them expressionlessly as they came in. The only warning sign was the dark flickers in her eyes.

Sheriff Burnett looked amused, though his voice was heavy. "Now you boys know the rules, right?"

"Yes, sir," Clint and Vince mumbled.

The deputy handed Vince his gun, a Colt six-shooter that he kept stuck in the back of his trousers. Painstakingly, the deputy counted out the six bullets. Sheriff Burnett said, "I 'spect you understand the rule about guns, don't you, sonny?"

"Yes, sir. The rule is: no guns," Vince said obediently.

"That's right," Burnett said with satisfaction and turned to bow slightly to Jeanne. "Miz Langer, I'm right glad that you're back on the river. Your daddy would bust a button, he'd be so proud of you. Now you need anything, anything a-tall, you just let me know, all right?"

"Thank you, Sheriff Burnett. You've always been a good friend to me and my family, and though I'm sorry about the circumstances, I'm glad we met again. I appreciate your help so much," she said, and without a word to Vince and Clint walked out the door.

She walked down to the docks, with them trailing her. She stopped, and they moved up sheepishly to let her get it all out. She said evenly, "I knew what I was doing when I had Marvel, and I knew what I was doing when I adopted Roberty. What I didn't know was that I'd have two other children on the boat."

"But I can explain, Jeanne—" Clint began.

Jeanne stuck one imperious finger in the air. "Not one word." She turned and stalked off.

Clint and Vince followed some distance behind her. "You were right," Clint finally said. "I wish she woulda just gone ahead and killed us."

C
HAPTER
T
EN

The
Helena Rose
steamed on to Napoleon Trading Post, where they stayed the night, and then a long haul to Pine Bluff, then Little Rock. Jeanne talked to Clint each morning and when they docked for the night. She said nothing about bailing them out of jail, not even when Clint had repaid her the ten dollars for his and Vince's bail. "Thank you," she merely said.

"No, thank
you
, Captain Jeanne," he said lightly. "I owe you."

She just shrugged.

They were on their return trip, back in Pine Bluff for the night. Jeanne was sitting at her desk, doing her logs. Marvel sat in one of the armchairs, playing quietly with her dolls. "Mama, are you mad at Mr. Clint and Mr. Vince?" she asked.

Jeanne put down her pen and turned to her. "No, I'm not mad at them. They didn't say anything to you, did they?"

"About you being mad? 'Cause they got thrown in jail? No. They just talk to me like they always do. But Roberty told me."

"Roberty told you what?"

"Roberty heard Mr. Vince telling Mr. Ezra about how these mean men in the saloon were talking bad about you, and Mr. Clint got mad and hit them. Roberty said it always makes Mr. Clint real mad when somebody says something about your petticoats, like when those men came to the
Rose
and yelled and Mr. Clint and Mr. Vince went out and yelled back at them. But Roberty said that those saloon men must have really said something not-nice for Mr. Clint to hit them, 'cause usually all he does is holler back at them. If Mr. Clint would have just told those saloon men to shut up, maybe he and Mr. Vince wouldn't have gotten thrown in jail."

Jeanne sat there, stunned. She suddenly recalled Marvel telling her about the "men yelling" that day before their first trip. She had been so absorbed in her own piloting problems that she had completely forgotten about it. In fact, she had been in a thick, muffled cocoon since she had started piloting the
Rose
. She rarely went anywhere by herself; she never went into town at their ports, and when she was in Memphis she was with George Masters. She had seen the article in the
Helena Daily World,
but she had dismissed it as silly and of no consequence. Now she realized that the river gossip about her must be widespread and crude.

Jeanne jumped up and started pacing, frowning at the floor, thinking hard and fast. So Clint and Vince had been defending her honor. Angrily she thought,
I can take care of myself, I don't need their help! And it's stupid, anyway! What are they going to do, go into every saloon and whorehouse on the river and pick a fight with anyone who says something ugly about me?

"Mama?" Marvel asked softly. "Did I upset you?"

Swiftly Jeanne went to kneel by her and give her a hug. "No, no, little one. I'm just thinking, that's all. But I need you to do me a favor, all right? Please go down and ask Ezra to come up here for a few minutes. I need to talk to him, so you stay down with Roberty until Ezra comes back, okay?"

"Sure, Mama," she said, hopping up and skipping out the door.

Jeanne paced until she heard the knock, and called, "Come in, Ezra."

He came in and stood in front of the door, his hands behind his back as if he were about to recite. Jeanne looked at him as if she was seeing him for the first time, and perhaps she was. He was short, with brawny shoulders and arms. His bald pate shone, and the brown fringe beneath was neatly combed down. His face was weathered and ageless. He wasn't at all uneasy, Jeanne saw; he was regarding her with something like compassion warming his dark eyes. She was about to ask him to sit, but then she realized that he wouldn't feel comfortable with that. She sat down in one of her desk chairs, folded her hands in her lap, and said, "Ezra, please tell me what happened in Helena, with Clint and Vince."

Unemotionally he related the events to her in his earthy voice, including colorful metaphors and descriptions but leaving out exactly what the deckhand from the
Red Queen
had said. "Clint and Vinnie took their exceptions to them boys, and there was a ruckus, and they all ended up in jail."

"I see," Jeanne said evenly. "And Marvel has told me something about some men on the docks in Memphis,
yelling men
, she called them. Was that a similar event?"

"Yes ma'am, Cap'n. And it ain't jist been in Memphis, neither. We've had to take some exceptions to some roustabouts here and there on this ol' river since you been driving the
Rose,
ma'am."

"You too?"

"Yes, ma'am. I might jist be an old river rat, but I niver have took to men insultin' ladies. It ain't right, and as long as I'm walkin' and talkin' and breathin' I ain't gonna put up with it."

"That's a fine sentiment, Ezra, and I appreciate you defending my honor," Jeanne said, "but I don't see you getting into fights with idiots in some seedy bar. I hardly think that helps my reputation."

He cocked his head and asked her curiously, "So you're all het up with Clint and Vinnie 'cause you think they ain't helping your reputation?"

"No, I see now that they were—trying to help," Jeanne said hesitantly.

"So you're all het up 'cause they got throwed in jail?"

"No—no. Not exactly. I guess."

"So you're all het up 'cause they was in a saloon?"

"I don't know," she said distractedly. "I'm confused now."

He nodded knowingly. "Miz Bettencourt, I'm a-gonna speak frank to you. See, I'm a Christian now, I done got saved and sanctified ten year ago, at a camp revival meeting. Afore that I wasn't nothing, I didn't have no honor, I didn't have no dignity, I didn't have no good sense, all I had was sin to keep me company, and poor company it were, too. But the good Lord saved me from my sin, and I come to figger out He saved me from everbody else's sin too. I got a hard head, and it tuck me awhile, but finally He got through to me. I had enough in my own lap without tendin' to other folks' problems. He'll deal with them, sure as He dealt with me."

Jeanne said evenly, "You're telling me that I shouldn't be angry with Clint and Vince for being in a saloon."

"Well, are you, ma'am?"

She thought for long moments, then answered quietly, "Yes, I am. And you're exactly right, Ezra, and I'm exactly wrong. I do have plenty enough in my own lap without tending to other folks' problems," she echoed him with a faint smile. "Thank you, Ezra."

"Cap'n," he said, bobbing his head, then he turned and left.

Jeanne stared into space.
Lord, I've been a mean-spirited busybody. It's none of my business what Clint and Vince or anyone else does. I'm so sorry.

As soon as she told this to the Lord, she thought:
I owe them an apology.

Somehow, Jeanne thought, she wouldn't have any trouble apologizing to Vince. He was employed by her, and she had made a mistake, and she could easily say to him, "I apologize for my attitude toward you, sir, what you do when you're not on my boat is none of my business. Let's just forget it, shall we?"

But it wasn't that simple with Clint Hardin.

Why not?
Jeanne wondered.

She wrestled with herself, trying to pin down the answer. But somehow it was a harder question than it should have been, and finally she gave up. She resolved to be more polite to Clint and Vince from now on, that there really was no need for her to go apologizing all over the boat.

Why not?
Jeanne thought.