They call her Dana (44 page)

I watched the wharves grow smaller as we pulled out into the river. I had arrived in New Orleans a girl, a child really, innocent and naive despite my experiences in the swamps. I was leaving the city a woman, sadder and much wiser about the ways of the world and how the world treated people who didn't belong. I didn't belong to Julian's world. I didn't belong anywhere, not yet, but as I gripped the railing and the great wedding cake of a boat turned and started upriver, I vowed I would make a place for myself. I would belong, and I would be somebody. I would show Charles Etienne and his kind. I would show the blood kin who had turned me away. One day, I promised myself, Dana O'Malley was going to look down her nose at the whole bloody pack.

Book Three

The V^oman

Chapter Fifteen

I NOTICED HER THAT VERY FIRST MORNING OD the boat. I WaS Standing at the railing, watching the churning water and the far bank, Hstening to the slosh-slap-slosh of the paddle wheel. It was nearly eleven o'clock. Several people were sauntering on deck, chattering with great animation, but I paid no attention to them. Lost in thought, lulled by the motion of the boat and the sound of the water splashing, I might have been completely alone. An hour must have passed, and I finally turned, thinking about lunch. I couldn't face the dining salon. Maybe that nice steward could arrange to have a light lunch brought to my cabin. The deck was almost deserted now. I sighed and started toward the narrow stairwell that led down to the cabins, and it was then that I saw her.

She was walking in my direction on the ann of a tall, slender, dark-haired man in gleaming black boots, gleaming white breeches and frock coat and a white Panama hat. He wore an emerald-green stock with an enonnous diamond stickpin, and a gold watch chain dangled from the pocket of his black brocade vest. Gambler, I thought, one of the flashy, flamboyant rogues who were a permanent fixture on the riverboats, fleecing wealthy lambs foolish enough to play cards with them. I judged him to be in his late thirties, handsome if a little too smooth and glossy. His dark eyes were much too sincere, and the thin black mustache couldn't quite minimize the venal curl of his full lips. His head was slightly turned and he gazed down at the woman as they walked. He seemed to be totally enraptured with her, and no wonder.

She was incredibly, amazingly beautiful. No, not so beautiful, I decided. Not really. Her cheekbones were too prominent,

her nose just a fraction long, and her lips were too full. She was striking, dramatic, rivetingly attractive, with that sparkling vitality and indefinable allure that was far more arresting than mere beauty. Her eyes were a dazzling sapphire-blue. Her hair was a deep raven-black, gleaming with blue-black highlights, piled on top of her head in a gorgeous arrangement of waves, long ringlets spilling down her back. A diamond spray was fastened to one side. She wore a stunning taffeta gown with blue and white and garnet stripes, the extremely low-cut bodice and snug waist accentuating her remarkable figure.

As the couple neared, I stepped to one side to let them pass. The man in white had eyes only for the glamorous creature at his side and didn't even know I was there. The woman looked up and caught my eye and smiled. It was perhaps the warmest, friendliest, most engaging smile I had ever received. It was both greeting and acknowledgment and came straight from the heart. Hello there, it seemed to say. We don't know each other, but I'm sure we would like each other if we did. She gave me a little nod as they passed on, and I heard the musical crackle of her taffeta skirt and smelled her subtle yet wonderfully tantalizing perfume. I stood there for a few moments, watching them move down the deck, and I felt a curious sense of loss, as though I had been bathed in sunlight and it had suddenly been taken away.

The steward did indeed bring lunch to my cabin, arranging everything neatly on the small round table. I tipped him generously and he bowed himself out. I wondered how many of Mag-delon's haughty friends knew that Doctor Samuel Johnson had begun the custom of tipping in a London coffee house over seventy years ago, giving his waiter a gratuity "To Insure Prompt Service." None of them, no doubt. A lot of good such trivial knowledge did me, I mused as I unfolded the spodess white linen napkin. I might be brighter than the whole pack—better-mannered, too—but I was a bastard from the swamps and I would always be their inferior. In their eyes. One day Charles would undoubtedly marry one of them, a magnolia-skinned belle with impeccable lineage and a head as empty as a gourd. To hell with him ... Oh God, let me be strong. Let me forget. Let me begin a new life and put the past and its pain behind me.

While the cabin was roomy and comfortable and nicely appointed, I realized I couldn't spend the entire trip hiding away

from other people. After lunch I took a short nap and freshened up, and then I decided to explore a bit. I hadn't wanted to lunch in the dining salon, but around four o'clock I found myself strolling into the main salon, very grand with thick red carpet, mahogany paneling and a plethora of potted plants. There were overstuffed gray velvet sofas and chairs and at least a dozen leather-topped tables. The woman I had seen on deck earlier was at one of them, shuffling a pack of cards while the gambler in white and four other men watched. The cards seemed to fly in her slender white hands with their bright pink nails, and they flew ever faster as she dealt them. The gambler in white did not look particularly happy, I observed.

There were few other people in the salon. I lingered for a moment by one of the potted plants, and die woman looked up and saw me and gave me a pleasant litde wave, as though we were already friends. I nodded somewhat stiffly, and although I would have loved to stay and watch the game, I strolled out of the salon and spent the next hour or so wandering around the deck. Not too long ago, I knew, the Mississippi had been filled with keelboats and flatboats, bringing trade goods downriver. It had been the haunt of vicious river pirates and marauders and, in its way, had been as perilous for the unwary as the notorious Natchez Trace. The coming of the big steamboats had changed all that. Although keelboats and flatboats could still be seen, the river pirates and marauders had been replaced by gamblers, con men and fancy women who used more subtie means to separate fools from their gold. Was the woman in striped taffeta a fancy woman in league with the gambler? I hated to think so, but the way she had handled the cards clearly suggested it.

I finally retired to my cabin, wishing fervently I had brought a book with me. Time hung heavily on my hands, and that was dangerous. I wasn't worried, I told myself, and I wasn't afraid either. If Herbie Kramer didn't remember me and I didn't get a job at his emporium, I would find some other job and I would survive. I would succeed. You're not going to sit around this cabin worrying, I promised myself. You're making a new beginning, and you're going to move forward with strength and courage and determination. You fended for yourself all those years in the swamps, and you can bloody well fend for yourself now.

At six I washed up, brushed my hair and changed into a

simple frock of tan and gold striped silk, and then I braved the dining salon. It was a bit early for the majority of passengers, and there were few people at the tables. I was thanldPul for that. Even so, I received a number of speculative stares as I ate my meal. Proper young women did not travel without a chaperone, and as I occupied a single table I was the subject of much curiosity. An ancient dowager in black lace and dusty garnets examined me through her lorgnette, hps pursed. A trio of middle-aged planters gazed at me and whispered. A handsome youth with sleek bronze hair tried to flirt with me. I ignored them all. I looked proper enough, but, traveling alone, I must either be an upstart poseur or some clever adventuress. Finishing my meal, I left the dining salon with my head held high and a frosty look in my eyes.

It wasn't dark yet, but thick twilight shadows shrouded the bank and shimmering orange reflections from the sinking sun danced on the murky brown water. I walked slowly along the deck, feeling low, feeling lonely, trying to convince myself I was as brave and self-sufficient as I wanted to be. Although I could hear the sound of voices drifting from other parts of the boat, I seemed to have this section of the deck all to myself. The boat rocked gently. The huge paddle wheel turned slowly, water sloshing with a monotonous music. A giant white smokestack loomed up ahead, and as I moved around it I was aware of someone huddling in the shadows behind it. Startled, I paused, and a vague alarm began to grow. There was a rustle of taffeta, and the woman I had observed eariier came out of the shadows, gripping the handle of a large, unwieldy carpetbag.

"Hello," she said. "We meet again.*'

"You—you startled me."

The woman smiled and then glanced nervously up and down the deck. "Sorry, love. I heard someone coming and I thought it might be him, so I darted behind the smokestack."

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" I asked.

"You might say that. I haven't done anything really wrong, mind you, but I could use a place to hide for a while. I thought about crawling into one of those lifeboats, but that seems terribly melodramatic."

"I'm sure it would be terribly uncomfortable as well."

"Got any other ideas?"

"You could come to my cabin," I said.

"You'd let me do that?"

"I've plenty of room."

"Marvelous! I can't tell you how grateful I am. Do let's hurry. If he finds me, there will be a very unpleasant scene. I'm not a criminal or anything like that, but—"

"It's the gambler, isn't it?"

"However did you guess? I was a little short of money, you see, and I met him yesterday in New Orleans and I have to be in Memphis day after tomorrow and he kindly offered to pay for my ticket and I discovered I was expected to share his cabin and well—"

"You don't have to explain anything to me," I said, leading her down the narrow stairwell.

"Oh, but I want to, love. I'm not an angel, but I really don't sleep with just anyone and he wears the most dreadful-smelling hair pomade and, anyway, he decided to fieece some suckers this afternoon and I sat in on the game and just couldn't help myself—I beat him at his own game, won a bundle, and there wasn't anything he could do without letting the suckers know he was cheating, too. The cards were marked, you see. Not very cleverly. I spotted it at once and I insisted on dealing myself."

I unlocked the door to my cabin and ushered her inside. She looked around appreciatively, setting her bag on the fioor.

"This is charming, love—I'll just sleep on that couch, won't put you out at all. Mr. Lance Sherman was livid N\'hen he kept losing and I kept winning—I let the other men win a few hands, too, just for the sake of appearances. They insisted we keep on playing, and I finally gathered up my winnings, excused myself, dashed to his cabin, grabbed my bag, and—here we are. Do you think I 'm just terrible? ''

"Not at all," I told her.

The woman smiled again. It was as friendly, as dazzling, as the smile she had given me on deck when she was with the gambler.

"It's strange," she said, "but when I first saw you this morning, looking so sad, looking so lonely, I said to myself—there's someone I 'd like to know.''

"I—I feh the same way," I confessed.

"It's fate, love," she declared. "We were meant to be friends."

She reached for my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, and

never had I felt such immediate closeness, such rapport. It was as though we already -were close friends and had been for some time. With her gorgeous clothes, her provocative perfume and low-pitched, musical voice, she was a fascinating creature, full of vitality and perfectly natural charm. There was worldly sophistication as well and a breezy self-confidence I longed to emulate.

"How did you become so expert at cards?" I asked, genuinely interested.

"In my profession, you have lots of time on your hands and the men are always playing cards backstage and—well, you pick things up."

"Backstage? You—you're an actress?"

"I'm on the stage, love. There's a world of difference, as my dear cousin constantly reminds me. Were it not for the family connection, he'd have booted me out of the company ages ago. I'm not that good, I confess, but I'm not that bad, either, and I'm extremely ornamental. Even Jason admits that. I'm Laura Devon, by the way."

"What a beautiful name," I said.

"It's a damn site better than Mabel Utterback, the name my parents gave me. Don't ever tell anyone I told you that. Jason's the only one who knows the awful truth, and he's as eager to forget it as I am."

"I'm Dana O'Malley," I told her.

"That's a nice name, too. What do you do?"

"I—I don't do anything yet," I replied. "I hope to find a job in St. Louis. A man I once met said that if I ever came to St. Louis he'd be happy to put me to work at his emporium."

Laura studied me for a moment, as though trying to discern something.

"You're running away from home," she said.

"I—I don't really have a home."

"Family?"

I shook my head. I felt like bursting into tears. Laura sensed that, and she squeezed my hand again.

"I have an idea, love. I'm loaded. I mean, I've got a whole bundle in my bag—more money than I've ever had at one time.' I can't leave the cabin until we reach Natchez—he is getting off the boat at Natchez, has a big game set up there—but you could

dash down the hall to the steward's post and order us a bottle of champagne and some food."

' 'I Ve already eaten,''

"I'm ravenous, love, and champagne is always lovely. Tell him you want a bottle of the best. ''

Thirty minutes later we were both sitting on the couch, drinking champagne and talking. I had already learned that Laura was twenty-three years old, had been with her cousin's theatrical troupe for four years, had been visiting a retired actress friend in New Orieans when she met the gambler and that the "diamond" spray in her hair was really paste. How stunning she was with that shining black hair, those sparkling, good-humored sapphire eyes, that smooth, creamy complexion. The prominent cheekbones and slightly long nose made her face all the more interesting, I thought, and the full pink lips were beautifully shaped and seemed designed to smile. She helped herself to more of the pate the steward had brought, spreading it on a thin sliver of toast.