CHAPTER

36

The stern-wheeler left Cape Girardeau but we hardly noticed. The rest of the world faded into nothingness. Our lovemaking was passionate and rough, as if we were punishing each other for our fears and the guilt of what we’d done. That night we understood that with great love came an even greater ability to inflict pain, to dole out cruelty when we felt threatened. The only solace, if you could call it that, was the knowledge this wasn’t one sided, that neither of us would cower at the other’s anger. A true marriage of equals.

Our fiery arguments were rare, but when over and resolved, our marriage was stronger for it, and this one was no different. We lay in our small bed, listening to the sounds of the boat on the other side of our thin cabin wall, and finalized our plan. We would give Rosemond my mother’s necklace, sneak off at Cairo, take the first stagecoach south, and make our way to New Orleans in the least logical way possible to throw off anyone who might follow. Rosemond didn’t know the name of the ship we were booked on, nor did she know the date, so neither would Lyman, if they were working together. Kindle was skeptical they were, but I didn’t want to start another argument so soon after our most recent one.

There was a knock at the door. “Who is it?” Kindle called.

“Message for Mr. Ryan.”

“Slide it under the door.”

“I’m supposed to deliver it in person.”

“Then you won’t deliver it.”

After a moment’s hesitation, the note slid beneath the door and stopped in the middle of the room. Kindle rose, picked it up, and opened it. “It’s from Lyman. He apologizes for his proposition. He’s inviting me to a game so he can win his money back. He says it’s the least I can do after breaking his nose.” Kindle smirked and tossed the paper on the dresser and reached for his discarded pants.

“You aren’t going.”

“Of course I am. I’ll apologize for his nose, lose a little money to him, and come right back.”

“What if Rosemond’s there?”

Kindle bent over and kissed me. “You have nothing to fear from Rosemond, Slim.”

“I know that. What if she told Lyman who we are?”

“She wouldn’t take the chance of Lyman getting the reward.”

“I think they’re working together.”

Kindle chuckled. “Rosemond isn’t working with Lyman.”

“How do you know?”

“She warned me about him last night, told me their history. She has no love, or respect, for John Lyman.”

My stomach churned at the mention of their night together. “You trust her,” I said, astonished.

He hesitated. “I do. She’s self-serving but she keeps her word.”

He counted out half of the money in his pocket. “You keep half of the cash. Free the jewels while I’m gone. We’ll give them to Rosemond and get off this damn boat at the next port, before she changes her mind.” He winked at me broadly as he left.

I held my mother’s sapphire-and-pearl necklace up to the dim cabin lamplight. I expected to feel a pang of loss, or remorse, at the imminent loss of the last connection to my former life. Instead, all I felt was wonder it had been a part of my life at all. Somehow it had safely traveled beneath a basket of produce, across the ocean, and over the vast Texas plains and Indian Territory to arrive here on the muddy Mississippi, outside Cairo, Illinois. Where it would go from here, I had no idea. It would either be worn on the bosom of a prostitute or be gambled away by a confidence man. My mother and father would never have imagined the fate. Maureen would have been appalled.

I put the necklace in the purple pouch, its home on its long, twisting journey, and brushed my hair. My combs were somewhere on the wooded pond path, I supposed. I wondered what kind of reception Kindle and I would receive when we brought the necklace to Rosemond.

The sharp pain I’d been dreading ripped through my stomach. I fell to my knees. “No, no, no. Not now.”

I pulled my medicine bag from the bed, spilling the contents all over the floor, and found the green bottle of laudanum. I uncorked it and took a long, bitter swig. I coughed, felt the opiate ooze through my body, and took another sip. I corked the bottle and clutched it to my stomach, waiting for the numbness to take away the pain.

The motors cut back and the stern-wheeler slowed. We were probably getting ready to make the sharp turn to port before Cairo. Kindle had told me earlier that after Cairo the river bent back and forth on itself for the remaining trip. Fifty miles turned into seventy. The trip would slow considerably. Another reason to get off the boat as soon as possible.

A muffled voice called out, as if from another boat, and the stern-wheeler cut its engines altogether. Sweating and breathless, I dragged myself onto the bed and pulled back the curtains covering the cabin’s window. I opened the window and peeked outside to the lower deck where our second-class room was located. Negro cabin boys ran past toward the main deck. Snatches of conversation from other passengers floated on the breeze.

“Why are we stopped?”

“Someone wants to board …”

“US Army …”

“… Prisoner …”

“… Deserter onboard …”

The sound of boots hitting the forward deck made me jerk my head inside and close the curtains. “Kindle.”

I stumbled outside and into the middle of a mass of onlookers. A few glanced at me with curiosity, but the unfolding events were too interesting to keep their attention for long. I sidled up to the nearest couple and asked, “What’s the commotion?”

“We aren’t sure,” the woman said, excitement in her voice. “I think there’s a killer onboard.”

“Nonsense, Eloise,” her husband said. “It’s an Army deserter. An officer, the scoundrel. You expect it from the Irish and the niggers, but not the officers. I don’t know what the world’s coming to.”

I went back into the hall to the stairs leading up to the first-class deck. This was all Rosemond’s doing, I knew it. The very woman rounded the corner at a trot, spotted me, and sped up. “Which is your room?”

I stepped forward. “You have some nerve—”

Rosemond turned me around and pushed me down the hall. “Where’s your room, Catherine?”

“Here.” I opened the door and we entered in a rush. She closed it and leaned against it.

“Lyman turned Kindle in.”

“You told him!”

“No. Lyman is a clever man. He connected you and Kindle to the newspaper story by Pope.” She shoved a dark cloak at me. “Put this on.”

“What?”

“Once Kindle is out of the way Lyman is going to take you to New York City and get the reward.”

“Isn’t that what you’re going to do?”

“Not today.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“Kindle asked me to.”

“He would never do that.”

“Yet, here I am.” When I didn’t move, Rosemond rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself. I’ll tell Kindle I tried.” She went to the door.

I doubled over in pain again. “Wait.”

She placed a hand on my back. “What’s wrong?”

“Menses.” I knelt on the floor and with shaking hands scooped my instruments and medicines into my bag. I dropped the purple pouch inside and snapped it shut. I was in too much pain and confusion to think to get my holster from the bottom of Kindle’s trunk.

Rosemond peeked out of the cabin and nodded for me to follow. We hurried quietly down the hall toward the stern.

We made our way to the stern ladder and Rosemond stopped at the top. A flatboat was tied to the bottom.

When safely aboard I heard voices across the water. In the distance, I saw a boat being ferried to shore. A lamp hung on the bow of the boat, illuminating Kindle sitting rigidly, his hands tied behind his back.

“William!”

Kindle turned toward my voice, as did the soldiers. “Who’s there? Is it the woman?”

“Shut her up.” Rosemond’s voice was flinty with hatred. I turned in time to see the dripping boat paddle rushing toward me.