Wilderness Courtship (12 page)

Charity looked to Thorne, smiled and said, “I am in your hands, sir. Whatever you feel is best for us, I shall endeavor to accept with grace.”

He laughed. “I’ll be holding you to that vow, Miss Beal. I sincerely hope you don’t come to regret it.”

Returning his grin she said, “So, do I, Mr. Blackwell. So, do I.”

Chapter Twelve

T
horne found, to his relief, that the captains of the steamers plying the Columbia were a close-knit fraternity, prone to good-natured rivalry. Thus, he was able to procure passage for his party at a more than fair rate with immediate departure promised.

In reality, the
Multnomah,
another side-wheeler, remained in port at Astoria hours longer than he had been told it would and Thorne was getting more and more testy.

“This boat is bound for Portland but we’ll disembark long before then,” he told Charity and the others as he paced the small private space they had been assigned.

“Good.” Charity eyed the pouting child seated on the floor. “Jacob is as restless as you are. I was hoping for a little time ashore. Are you sure we can’t do just a tiny bit of exploring?”

“I’m afraid not. I was watching the dock area a few minutes ago and I saw Cyrus Satterfield climbing the hill toward Astoria. It’s a very small settlement. I see no reason to tempt fate by joining him. Now that he’s gone, our troubles may be over.”

“You must be joking.”

“No. Not at all. Satterfield is not continuing upriver with us so I see no more problems.”

“Not from him, maybe,” Charity countered. “That’s assuming he was responsible for sneaking into our cabin, as you initially thought. We have no proof of his guilt one way or the other.”

“Meaning, I may have been wrong? I doubt it. My skills for judging people are well-honed. Satterfield was up to no good. I’m certain of it.” He could tell by the dubious look on Charity’s face that she remained unconvinced.

“I suspect you may have been a tiny bit jealous of his interest in Naomi,” she ventured with a wry smile.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Although she looked away rather than rebut his declaration of innocence, Thorne remained bothered by her suggestion. Surely, that could not be the case. Yes, he cared what happened to his brother’s family but that was simply because he owed such an emotional debt to Aaron, alive or dead.

Examining his innermost heart, Thorne found no trace of lingering affection for Naomi. On the contrary. He wasn’t deliberately placing blame for her presently unstable condition, but he did suspect that her own guilt over her prior maltreatment of her husband was at least partially responsible.

What he wanted most to do was continue the present discussion with Charity and explain exactly how he felt about the other woman. Since all of them were together in the cramped cabin that would be impossible, of course.

Further considering the constraint, he began to view it as advantageous. There were things—personal things—he was tempted to say to Charity that
must
remain unvoiced, at least until they had reached their destination in Washington Territory.

After that, perhaps he would consider speaking of his serious intentions. It had been years since he had entertained such notions toward any woman and he knew he should proceed with caution, especially in Charity’s case. There had been times, when they had inadvertently touched, that he had glimpsed something akin to fear in her eyes and it had cut him to the quick.

Above all, he would strive to make sure she trusted him fully and was assured he would never cause her harm or pain of any kind. The best way to do that, he reasoned, was by example. He didn’t know where his opportunities might lie but he was certain they would arise as they followed the trail north. And when they did, he would be ready to take advantage of them.

He just hoped and prayed that Miss Charity Beal would be open to accepting his sincere efforts to win her confidence and then, perhaps, her heart.

And if he failed? What then?

Thorne gritted his teeth and squared his shoulders as he pictured having to bid her a final farewell. He didn’t even want to contemplate such an utterly intolerable event.

Gazing at her as she played with Jacob, he realized that bidding either of them goodbye was going to tear his heart out.

Cyrus Satterfield had walked slowly away from the dock to make sure his entrance into Astoria was plainly visible. He wasn’t going to try to follow Blackwell and his party too closely from here on out. He’d had his fill of encountering the taciturn seaman and trying to keep from laughing in his face. Besides, it wasn’t brawn that would win the day, it was brains.

The first order of business was refilling his pockets with enough coin to buy his way through whatever snags he might encounter in the wilderness. Ashton had already supplied him with a generous stake and would have added to it in a heartbeat, he knew, if he’d had access to quick communication. As things stood, however, Cyrus figured he’d be lucky to keep up with his quarry even if he didn’t wait around for more traveling money to arrive.

He sauntered into the first saloon he came to and bellied up to the bar. “Whiskey. And none of that rotgut you palm off on the Indians. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Purposely paying the bartender more than the drink was worth he gave him a conspiratorial smile and leaned closer to say, “I’m looking for a high-stakes game of chance. Any idea where I might find one?”

The man cocked his head toward a doorway in the rear. It was covered by a dirty, tattered, gray blanket nailed to the top of the frame rather than having an actual wooden door.

“In there?” Satterfield asked, incredulous.

“If you’re up to it. They don’t take no guff off’n strangers. You’d best have the wherewithal to play or they’ll run you out of town. Or worse, if you get my drift.”

“I fully understand,” Satterfield said, picking up his drink and starting to turn away. “This shouldn’t take long.”

“Don’t underestimate those fellas,” the bartender warned. “They take their game very serious.”

“I take everything seriously,” the assassin replied with a snide smile. He paused. “Tell me, how much would it cost for you to get somebody to go down to the docks and delay the departure of a certain riverboat for an hour or two?”

Charity had managed to keep her small charge busy by sitting on the floor with him and teaching him to tie knots in the fringe on a lap robe she’d found in their new quarters. He was becoming very accomplished at the knots and she was kept well-occupied untying them so he could try again and again.

Thorne had gone out on deck long ago. She was beginning to wonder what had become of him when he reappeared to announce, “They’re casting off. Finally.”

“Good. No more sign of that man you were worried about?”

“No. None. Thank God.” As he spoke he looked heavenward and Charity knew his thanks were being properly delivered.

“Then we can relax.” She could tell by the look on Thorne’s face that he didn’t agree so she asked, “Well, why not? Surely we’re safe on this little boat.”

“From my stepfather’s perfidy, perhaps,” Thorne said. “But there are other dangers ahead.”

“I thought you trusted God to look out for you. You once said you believed He knew our future. Have you changed your mind?”

“No.” He offered his hand as she attempted to gracefully rise.

Since the boat was now in motion, Charity accepted his assistance rather than chance tripping on her skirt or voluminous petticoats. There were times, like now, when she envied the ease of men’s movements, unhindered by all the cloth that fashionable women carried about on their persons. Her sister, Faith, still had the buckskin dress a Cheyenne woman had given her and was forever praising its comfort and simplicity.

“Thank you,” Charity said, using both hands to smooth her skirt as soon as she got her balance. “How long do you expect this leg of our journey to take?”

“Probably several days, particularly because we’ll be fighting the current. In this case I highly recommend that you do take in the sights. The gorge is quite amazing, especially if you haven’t seen it before.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news! I do so prefer to be outdoors.” She noted that he was beginning to smile at her and supposed he was amused by her childish enthusiasm. Well, that couldn’t be helped. She’d been a virtual prisoner on the
Grand Republic
for over a week and had lived a terribly sheltered life at the hotel before that. Standing on deck to enjoy the unspoiled beauty of the wild lands on both sides of the immense river would be akin to being released from jail and transported straight to the Garden of Eden.

“I would have thought that a lady like you would have preferred a drawing room to the windy deck of a riverboat.”

“Then you do not know me nearly as well as you think you do,” Charity countered, also smiling. “I may once have been a delicate, shrinking violet but life has made me far more sturdy than that.”

“Are you saying that some of your experiences were good for you?”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t go quite that far. Suffice it to say that I have learned how to appreciate that which I do have and to waste less time coveting that which I do not.”

“Such as?”

“I think this conversation has gone far enough, sir,” she said, continuing to smile demurely. “Would you be so kind as to watch Jacob so I may take a turn around the deck?”

“Alone? Shouldn’t I accompany you?”

“If you feel you must,” Charity said honestly, hoping he would understand her need for time to contemplate, to soak up the wonders of the scenery without distraction. “Truth to tell, I covet a bit of peace and quiet.” Eyeing the child she felt a pang of motherly love. “I do enjoy our little man but there are times…”

“Say no more.” Thorne lifted the child in his arms and carried him to the door so he could open it for Charity. “You’d best wear the heavy coat. It’s always windy here and as soon as we sail into the depths of the gorge the sunlight will be blocked by the high cliffs. You’ll be easily chilled.”

Although she took his advice before heading outside, she made no comment. It was comforting to have someone looking after her but she had been the caregiver for others for so long the shift in responsibilities was a tad hard to accept.

The man means well,
she decided as she drew the heavy overcoat more tightly around her slim figure and leaned against the carved, white-painted, wooden railing at the leading edge of the uppermost deck. Thorne Blackwell had obviously appointed himself everyone’s caretaker and took that job very seriously. There was nothing wrong with that. She was simply unwilling to surrender totally to his will. He wasn’t a bit like her late husband had been, yet the notion of giving up her personage by subjecting it to his, went against the grain.

Charity stood facing into the wind to let the loose curls blow back from her forehead and cheeks, mindless of the damage to her carefully coiffed, upswept hair. She knew she should return to the cabin and fetch her bonnet but she couldn’t tear herself away from the wonders before her.

Cliffs adorned with stately pines rose high on both side of the gorge, painting the rocky cliffs with patches of verdant green. Where there were narrow rifts she could often glimpse slim, towering waterfalls that looked as if they had turned to mist by the time they finally reached the base of the cliffs. From there they added their icy drops to the multitude of creeks and rivulets flowing into the mighty Columbia.

Seabirds mingled with eagles and other soaring, diving denizens of the canyon, sharing the air and the forest while calling to each other above the steady march of boats plying the waterway. Deer occasionally peeked out from the greenery, as did smaller creatures indigenous to the woodlands that had so recently been divided into Oregon and Washington territories by the American congress.

Unlike her, the wild animals clearly knew where they belonged, Charity mused. What was it the Bible said?
Don’t worry about anything. If God takes care of the birds of the air and the lilies of the fields, you must see that He will also take care of you.

Oh, how much easier life would be if only she believed that the way Thorne did. She wanted to. Really, she did. Continuing to watch the passing scene, she grew melancholy. Perhaps someday she would find her place in the world, a place where she
knew
she belonged. A place where there was peace and love and acceptance. Home.

Thoughtful, pensive, she happened to glance at the shoreline on her left. At least five Indian dugout canoes were beached there and riders on horses and mules had formed into a group as they trailed their way up from the water on a narrow path that looked as if it followed the course of the river for a short way.

She stiffened. Frowned. Shaded her eyes and strained to see more clearly. Could her imagination be playing tricks on her or did one of those men on horseback closely resemble the man from the hotel whose presence had so vexed Thorne? She had only seen Cyrus Satterfield briefly since they’d left San Francisco, and then only from a distance, but this rider’s clothing matched the details stored in her memory. Moreover, he stood out from the others because he wasn’t dressed like a settler or an Indian.

There was only one way to find out. Lifting her hem and racing for the cabin, she went to fetch Thorne.

Charity’s abrupt arrival startled Thorne and brought him to his feet. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I—I think I saw him. That man. The one you were watching,” she blurted breathlessly.

“Where?” He immediately usurped her position at the door, blocked the entrance with his body and scanned the nearby deck area. “Did he bother you?”

“No, no,” she explained. “It was on shore. I think I saw him on the riverbank with some Indians.”

“Which shore? North or south?”

“I don’t know.” She glanced at the sky. “It’s too near noon to tell.”

Thorne did his best to temper his consternation. “We’re headed almost due east. From the bow, north is to the left and south is…”

“North,” she nearly shouted. “He was on the north shore.”

“Stay here with Naomi and the boy. I’ll go have a look,” he called over his shoulder, already hurrying away.

In the seconds it took him to round the pilothouse and reach the port deck he prayed he’d be in time to see for himself.