The River Rose (31 page)

"Why? You are her lover, aren't you?"

Clint said darkly, "You shouldn't even ask that question. It's none of your business. I would never discuss you with anyone on this earth, and I'm not going to talk about Eve Maxfield, either. Now are you going to sell me this stuff or not?"

She deflated and answered dully, "All right. It's five dollars."

Clint knew that was outrageous, but he merely said, "I'll take two bottles, please." He handed her a ten-dollar bill and stuck the bottles in his pocket. "Hope business picks up, Madame. Funny, Main Street seems almost deserted, so it's not just you. I'll see you, Mary."

He turned to leave and she came from around the counter to pluck at his sleeve. "You just came in, didn't you? So you're going to be here tonight. Why don't you come to me, just after dark?"

Gently he pulled away from her. "Not tonight, Madame Chasseur, but thank you."

As he left, she knew that she wouldn't see him again. Again rage seethed in her, rage at Clint, at Eve Maxfield, at her own inability to keep him, even at the little mosquito-bitten girl he cared about so much. She was glad she hadn't told him that there was a yellow fever plague. Maybe he would catch it and die.

But deep down Mary Chase knew that losing him because he died wouldn't make her feel any better than losing him because he didn't love her . . . as she loved him.

JEANNE SAW CLINT WALKING up the gangplank, smiling, and she ran to him. "Where have you been?" she demanded.

"I had a little errand to run. For Marvel," he explained. "Why, what's the matter?"

"You don't know? There's a yellow fever epidemic. You didn't see any sick people?"

"No, I didn't know, and I didn't see anyone that was sick. I hardly saw anyone at all on the streets and I guess now I know why," he said thoughtfully.

"We have to get out of here," Jeanne said, grabbing his arm and hauling him into the boiler room. The roustabouts were still unloading the sacks of rocks, filing back and forth on the gangplanks. "They should have quarantined the docks, but they didn't. There's been no official notice at all. Vince says that word on the docks is that hundreds are sick, and some have already died."

Clint nodded. "Okay, Jeanne, but it's Sunday. We can't pick up the mail or get loaded today. You do realize that, don't you?"

Jeanne wrung her hands. "No, I didn't realize that. Are you saying that we'll have to stay here tonight?"

Clint put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm not saying that at all. It's just that I had yellow fever when I was a kid, and they tell me that once you've had it you're immune. I can stay and explain to the postmaster and to Mr. Baxley that the
Helena Rose
left because of the fever. So you can leave right now if you need to."

Jeanne paced up and down for a few moments. "I don't know. I hate to do that, we have commitments. Especially the mail. Who knows how long it would be before they get their mail in Pine Bluff and Little Rock?"

Vince came in the boiler room and said, "Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to ask you, Captain Jeanne. My men said they'd come back to load us up when the stoves show up. That way we won't have to let anyone that might be exposed onto the boat."

Clint said, "I saw you've got Duffy and Eddie and the others loading. You talked to them?"

"Yeah, Duffy told me about the yellow fever. None of the guys or their families have it. There have been a couple of roustabouts that have caught it, but Duffy says they don't work with them."

Jeanne looked pleadingly at Clint. "What do you think?"

"I know the postmaster goes to Calvary Episcopal Church, and I can go find him there and tell him we need that mail now. And Kaufman's warehouse is always open, I can go tell their manager that we want to load up today instead of in the morning," Clint answered matter-of-factly. "I know it's a risk, Jeanne, but that Kaufman contract was hard to get and we need their business. If only two fellows on the docks have gotten sick, then it must not be too bad down here."

"All right," Jeanne decided. "Let's get it done as fast as we can, because we're leaving as soon as we're loaded. And, Clint, while you're in town stop at Anderton's and get them to send us two barrels of vinegar. I'm scrubbing this boat inside-out and top to bottom as soon as it gets here."

The vinegar arrived before the mail or the Kaufman stoves, so Jeanne, Ezra, and Vince scrubbed the floor, walls, ceiling, wheel, the windows, and all the fixtures in the pilothouse. Jeanne sent Marvel and Roberty up there as soon as they'd finished. Roberty protested, "I can help, Captain Jeanne! I feel fine."

"No, Roberty, not this time," she said sternly. "You and Leo keep Marvel company while we clean our cabin, okay? Once we get underway it'll be all right for you two to roam around again."

They scrubbed Jeanne's cabin, and by that time Clint had come back with the mail, and the carts of stoves were lining up on the docks. Jeanne, Clint, and Vince kept scrubbing everywhere while Ezra supervised the roustabouts. It was almost nine o'clock before the
Rose
was loaded and ready to go.

Jeanne hadn't been piloting at night for the simple reason that she didn't know the river by night. It was a completely different world from daytime navigation. And she was utterly exhausted. But she was determined to get out of Memphis, so she told Marvel and Roberty that they could go down to the main deck and she took the wheel. The
Helena Rose
backed away from the plague city and slipped off into the night.

After about an hour she heard a soft knock on the door, and without turning she called, "Come on in, Roberty."

"Sorry, it's not Roberty, it's me," Clint said. "I had to beat him up so he'd let me bring your tea." He set a tray down on the bench and came to her side, holding a steaming mug with the spicy aroma of black tea wafting from it. Jeanne stared straight ahead, her jaw clenched, and held out her hand. He slipped the mug into it. "Ezra took Marvel up to bed a little while ago. He said she barely said 'good night' before she went to sleep."

Jeanne nodded. "That's good. She needs her rest more than other children. She has a frail constitution, you know."

"I remember, you told me she was born early. But she's better than she was, don't you think, Jeanne? Since you've been on the
Rose
she's gained some weight, she's not so pale, her cheeks have a pretty pink color, her eyes are bright. It's the same with Roberty. He doesn't even resemble that half-starved dirty little street urchin you brought on board."

"It's true. Living on the
Helena Rose
is good." She sounded strained, and even in the darkness of the cabin Clint could see the tension in her shoulders and her hands.

"I brought you a sandwich and some fruit, Jeanne. Why don't you take a break? You look and sound done in."

"I can't. I've never done this before, at night."

"So I'll stop the boat. You can rest. But if the next coupla miles are like this I don't see why I can't just stand there and hold onto the kingpin. Looks to me like we're going straight and steady."

She hesitated, then said, "No, it is straight on, dead middle of the river, until we get to Island Number 60. And I don't mean the one in Helena, either," she said with feeble humor. "To tell you the truth, I would like to sit down for a few minutes."

"Then sit, and eat. If anything happens you can jump right up and rescue me."

Jeanne almost had to pry her hands loose from the wheel, it was so ingrained in her never to let go of it. But she gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and told herself,
Just let go!
and she did. Wearily she sat down and looked at the tray. It held a fat sandwich and a big green pear. She picked up the pear with delight and sniffed it. "I'll bet this pear smells really good," she told Clint ruefully, "except I can't smell anything but vinegar."

"Yeah, I'd bet there's not a live vermin crawling on this boat anywhere. I'm surprised your scrubbing didn't eradicate Leo."

"Bet it killed his fleas, if he had any." Jeanne took a bite of the crunchy, juicy pear and chewed with enjoyment. At least she could taste it.

Clint said diffidently, "Jeanne, can I ask you something?"

"Mmm, yes. You can ask," she said heavily.

"Yeah, I get it, you don't have to answer if you don't want to. But it's a pretty innocent question. I've just always wondered how Marvel got her name. She told me her grandfather named her, but that's all."

Quietly Jeanne said, "It was in wintertime, and I slipped and fell on some icy stairs. She came almost two months early, and I—we had a hard time. When my father first saw her he picked her up, held her high up over his head, and said, 'Thank You, Lord Jesus! She's a marvel, a real marvel!'"

"So she is," Clint said. "She's smart, but it's not just intelligence. She's clever, and she has a sort of intuition that's way beyond her age. She's a special little girl."

"Yes, she is. I have to admit that I'm surprised she's turned out as well as she has. Because she hasn't had a father, you see." She took another bite of the pear and Clint waited in silence, amazed that Jeanne had mentioned her husband. After awhile Jeanne went on, "My husband left us when Marvel was only five months old."

"But—I thought you said that your parents died around then?" Clint asked.

"Yes. My husband disappeared on May 12, 1849. My parents were already dead on that day, though I didn't know it. I found out about my mother and father three days later. But I never saw or heard from my husband again."

"I'm so sorry, Jeanne," Clint said gutturally. "So sorry for you and for Marvel."

"It's all right now," she said, and Clint could hear the small smile in her voice. "Now we have the
Helena Rose
. And we have friends that are almost like family. It's almost as if Marvel has a father now, too."

Clint knew she was talking about George Masters, and he said nothing more.

But she wasn't.

They reached Helena at dawn, and Jeanne and Clint went ashore to check with the harbormaster as soon as they docked. There was no yellow fever in Helena, none reported on any ships that had come through there. Jeanne fell into bed and slept until noon. She felt fine, so they went on to Napoleon Trading Post, at the mouth of the Arkansas River. Clint checked with the general store, for there was no harbormaster at the tiny settlement. "No yellow fever, not even word of it here," he reported back to the
Helena Rose.

With relief Jeanne said, "Then we're overnighting right here. I know it's only four o'clock, but I'm going to bed. I think this will be the first time I can sleep soundly since the night before we docked in Memphis."

They set out up the Arkansas at dawn the next day, and Jeanne felt completely relieved, rested, and strong again. She was glad, for this was the most difficult part of their trips. After four hours they reached Noble's Oxbow, and she gave it a wide berth, though it looked as though the entrance to the sand island was well under water again. Just after they passed it Clint came into the pilothouse without knocking.

"Jeanne," he said gravely, "you're going to want to stop."

"What? Why?"

He laid one of his hands on top of hers on the wheel. "I'm so sorry," he said quietly. "Marvel is sick."

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

Jeanne bolted out of the pilothouse and flew downstairs to the cabin. Marvel was kneeling by the bed, vomiting into a pail, with Ezra holding her head. When Jeanne knelt down to hold Marvel, Ezra slipped out. When Marvel finished, she was gasping weakly, and Jeanne picked her up and laid her in bed. She wet a cloth in the washbasin and sponged her face. "I'm sorry I'm sick, Mama," Marvel said.

"Hmm, so you're doing this on purpose? Then stop it right now," Jeanne said gently.

"Okay, I'll try." She closed her eyes.

"Tell me how you feel, and where it hurts."

"I started feeling like I had a fever awhile ago, Mama. Then my tummy started rolling around and around and then I felt really sick and Ezra carried me up here. Then I had to throw up."

Marvel's forehead was hot, and Jeanne knew she had a fever. She asked, "So you felt like you had a fever before you got nauseated?"