Winter Woman, page 9
"They think I'm one of the other kind of girls."
Jacob gave the men a hard look, but let Cora lead him away. Behind him the men watched in puzzlement.
"What did you mean by me starting another fight?" Jacob asked.
"Like in New Orleans." Cora smiled at him.
Jacob laughed. "You sure bring out the fight in me."
"You don't have to protect me anymore, for I'm a big girl now." Still, she was pleased at Jacob's reaction to the man's words.
"Yes, you are grown up and very beautiful," he said. "Sometimes a woman's beauty can be dangerous for her."
"How could that be?" Cora thought she knew, still she wanted to hear Jacob explain.
"Beautiful women are the ones men carry off," he said gruffly and fell quiet. At this moment he wanted to grab Cora, throw her upon Jubal and ride away with her to the mountains. He touched the hand that held his arm. He wouldn't ride off with her right now. Maybe later, and he smiled at the thought.
"Have you ever stolen a girl and carried her off?" Cora asked in a teasing voice.
"Just once," Jacob replied, in the same bantering voice that Cora had used.
Cora was watching Jacob's face and thought he might be telling the truth. She was shocked at the possibility. She would have liked to hear the details of such a thing, but decided it was better that she not press him further.
They reached the edge of the Mormon camp of some forty tents arranged in two rows across the meadow. The three young women at the nearest tent watched them approach. They seemed surprised at Jacob and Cora's presence.
"Who's your head man?" Jacob asked.
"Elder Clive Pateman is the company leader," a girl with red hair replied. "His tent is there in the center." She pointed.
"Is he there now?" Cora asked.
All three girls nodded in unison.
"Let's go talk with him," Cora said to Jacob.
They continued on past other staring people, mostly young women, and halted at the entrance of Pateman's tent. Jacob called out. "Hello inside. Is Clive Pateman there?"
A moment passed and a giant of a man came out of the tent, ducking his head to clear the top of the opening. He straightened and towered over Jacob's six feet by a hand width. His head was big and his chest broad. Jacob judged the giant's age at something in the middle thirties. He certainly wasn't old enough to be called "elder." That must be a church title.
"What can I do for you folks?" Pateman's voice was a deep bass. His black eyes checked Jacob with a man's glance, then moved quickly to range over Cora from her head to her feet.
Jacob saw the scrutiny Pateman gave Cora and didn't like it. In fact, he regretted having mentioned the Mormons to Cora. However, it was too late to stop what he had set in motion.
"I understand you are going to Salt Lake City soon," Cora said.
"That's correct. Why do you ask?"
"I'd like to travel with you."
"Go with us?" Pateman said in surprise. "Why, are you a Mormon?"
"Oh, no. But my sister and I want to go to California. All the wagon trains have already left. Jacob suggested that we might travel with your people to Salt Lake City this summer and then go on to California early next year. Is that possible?"
Pateman cast an enquiring look at Jacob. "You wouldn't be going with her?"
"No," Jacob said. At the reply, Jacob thought Pateman hid a smile behind his black eyes.
Pateman spoke to Cora. "We'll be taking a steamboat up-river to Florence. After that it's a long, hard journey overland, more than a thousand miles. Are you up to that?"
"My sister and I are used to traveling. We've just come from New Orleans. We survived storms and floods. Men tried to rob us but didn't succeed. You wouldn't have to worry about us. We can carry our own weight and not bother anyone asking for help."
"What kind of vehicle do you have?"
"A one-horse buggy. It's a good Phaeton buggy."
"Do you have money for supplies?"
"Yes, enough."
Pateman again looked Cora over thoroughly, and then nodded. "You and your sister can travel with us. What's your name?"
"Dubois. My given name is Cora and my sister's is Maude."
"Mine is Clive Pateman. The buggy won't do. It would never stand up to the trip, for it's all rough country with no roads. You must trade it for a one-horse covered wagon. One with good canvas that'll hold out rain. We're leaving early tomorrow morning, so you must make the trade today. I know a man who will give you a fair deal. We can go there now before it gets dark."
"Cora, I'll help you make the trade," Jacob said. "I have a friend with a yard full of wagons."
"Mr. Pateman offered first, Jacob, so I will go with him.
Jacob shrugged his shoulders and said not a word.
He didn't like being rejected again. Still, he knew Cora had to please Pateman for he could give permission for her to travel with the Mormons. He had seen the look in the big man's eye and didn't like the thought of her being with him for days on end as they journeyed to Salt Lake City. In fact, Jacob didn't like anything at all about Pateman.
"What about supplies?" Cora asked Pateman. "Should I buy them here in St. Joe?"
"Yes. All supplies are cheaper here than in Florence. Buy enough to last for three months. We will be taking along a herd of beef that you can buy a share in for fresh meat. Also, we'll kill buffalo as we go across the prairie. You can expect a short wait in Florence while we wait for the construction of the handcarts to be finished."
"Handcarts? You travel by handcarts?"
"Handcarts have been taking my people successfully to Salt Lake City for the past five years. It's hard labor, but true believers can perform nearly impossible tasks. Now we'd better get started, for it'll be dark in an hour."
"I'm ready," Cora said. She was glad she would have a wagon and not have to pull a handcart a thousand miles across the prairie and up over the mountains to Salt Lake City. She turned to Jacob. "Thank you for everything. Maybe you can come and see us off in the morning?"
"I'll surely do that." See her off, hell. He felt unsettled about how things had turned out. He had just found her and now she would be disappearing from his life after just a few hours. He should have kept his mouth shut about the Mormons and he could have enjoyed Cora's pleasant company for weeks.
Pateman offered his arm to Cora. She took it and fell into step beside him. She glanced back at Jacob. The brave boy who had fought the Rats for her in New Orleans had become quite a man. She gave him a little wave.
Jacob did not respond to the wave, merely standing and staring gloomily after Cora.
Twelve
Jacob could not resolve the problem that plagued him so tenaciously. His head was lowered as he moved through the frail moonlight on the footpath that fishermen had tramped out in the weeds along the edge of the Missouri River. He had walked the remainder of the evening after parting from Cora, and into the night, and still the question eluded an answer.
Always before now upon returning from months of trapping in the mountains, he would dress in town clothes, have a good meal, listen to some good music in the company of a pretty girl, and spend the night making love. The part about making love to some strange girl now seemed to require rethinking.
He halted and looked down the river across the black water a quarter mile to the docks at St. Joe. He stood on the outward bend of a meander of the river, upstream of the town, and the dark outlines of the boats tied up to the docks were plainly visible. Berthed at the upper end of the docks was the luxurious River Palace Steamboat. The pale light from coal oil lamps shone in the windows of the boat and fell in a row of tiny pools of yellow mist upon the river passing in the dark. He could faintly hear a piano and violin, but could not make out the tune being played. He had visited the River Palace before and knew what pleasures awaited a man there.
The discovery of Cora had created his dilemma of whether or not to go the River Palace and seek out a lady-love. While Cora had been but a beautiful memory of the past, there had been no conflict in his actions toward other women. But now the doubts loomed large.
Think clearly and be reasonable about this, Jacob told himself sternly. Cora's presence in St. Joe was only temporary. Tomorrow morning she would be gone. He recalled how Pateman had looked at her with a desirous eye. Many other men would also surely find her beautiful. Soon she would be married to some handsome, lucky fellow. The odds were impossibly large that that man would not be Jacob. In reality, he probably would never see her again once she left St. Joe. She would continue on with her life, without consideration for what he did or didn't do.
He took a deep breath of the damp air heavy with the musty mud odor of the ancient river. He felt the ageless primal urge of a young man, long denied, for a woman. "So be it," he said out loud. He strode off toward the waterfront docks. He smiled sadly in the darkness, for he wished he was on his way to visit Cora.
Jacob slowed as he came to the river docks. A man Jacob judged to be an army captain from the post located north of the town walked ahead of him in the path of light cast by three storm lanterns hanging on a cable that stretched across the dock from the land to the River Palace. The army captain went aboard the riverboat and entered the huge main deck cabin.
The River Palace was famous for its beautiful women, excellent food and drink, all of it available among elegant furnishings and polite conduct and manners. She journeyed up and down the Mississippi River and its two main tributaries, the Missouri and Ohio Rivers. She began her voyage north from New Orleans in the early spring, stopping at the cities and towns along the rivers for varying lengths of time to ply her trade and then continuing on. As the autumn brought its cooler, pleasant temperatures, the River Palace turned south and returned back along its course, to end its journey in New Orleans where it spent the frigid winter months.
Jacob went on board the River Palace and entered the salon of the main deck to the sound of the piano and violin being skilfully played. At the right end of the long room five military officers, a mixture of army and navy men, were resplendent in full dress uniforms. Only their swords were missing. The navy officers would be from the gunboat he had earlier seen tied to the dock. The men sat holding drinks and talking with three blond women. One was the pretty woman who had smiled and winked at Jacob on the street. She was facing partially away and had not noticed his entrance. Several men in civilian clothes danced with women on the polished hardwood floor in the center of the room. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.
A young army lieutenant leaned on the end of the piano and listened to a woman, equally young, play a light, airy tune. A fat, bald-headed man accompanied her on a violin. The musical rendition came to a close, and the lieutenant caught the woman's hand. She smiled, stood up and led him from the room. The man with the violin placed it on top of the piano and went to the small bar against the wall and ordered a drink.
The woman he had seen on the street looked past the officers surrounding her and saw Jacob. She watched him a moment and then excused herself and walked to meet him. He doffed his hat and half bowed to the woman.
The woman's rouged lips formed a gracious smile. "I'm Corrine, and I welcome you." Jacob clasped the soft hand she offered. She had a slight French accent similar to Cora and Renne. Jacob liked it.
"I'm Jacob Morgan." He couldn't help but smile back at the pretty woman.
"May I have your hat, Jacob?" Corrine asked.
Jacob started to give his hat to Corrine when a man and woman came down from the upper deck by steps at die far end of the room. They walked toward the bar. Jacob's smile fell away as he recognized Wade Shattuck. He believed the man was a fur thief. If that was true, then Shattuck was as guilty of murder as were the Indians who had killed Branham's man in the mountains. Jacob knew Shattuck was his enemy without a word being spoken.
Shattuck said something to the woman with him and she left and went toward the four officers. He swung his view around observing the occupants of the room. He saw Jacob watching him, and recognized the young trapper of Kinshaw's band. The nosy fellow had found Tom Branham's initials on the stolen furs. Shattuck cursed silently and raised a hand to clasp his coat close to his shoulder holster. He should have examined the furs when Wolf Voice's braves had brought them to him. Why in hell hadn't Wolf Voice killed the trappers after Shattuck had identified them for him? The Indian must have had plenty of opportunities on the campaign after the Sioux.
Corrine saw Jacob look past her, and his eyes become frosty and hard. His hand moved to hover near the butt of the pistol showing under the tail of his coat. She twisted to look in the same direction. Wade Shattuck was poised on the balls of his feet. His face and body were taut as he stared back at Jacob. She sensed the deep enmity between the two men and wondered what had caused it.
"What's wrong, Jacob?" Corrine asked in a tone hardly above a whisper.
At her question, Jacob began to smile tight-lipped. He showed no worry or alarm. Just a readiness to fight. Maybe a desire to fight.
"Shattuck acts like he owns the River Palace," Jacob said.
"He's quarter owner. When the Palace is in St. Joe, he comes often to sample for free what’s offered."
Some of the tenseness left Jacob as he mentally reined himself in. So Shattuck was a whoremaster as well as a murderer and fur thief. However, the quarrel about ownership of the furs was Branham's to take up with Shattuck. Jacob hoped he would soon encounter Branham so he could tell him about the furs. The battle between the two men would be something to see.
"Pour us a drink and talk a little with me," Jacob said. He would not let Shattuck drive him away from the pretty woman with the nice French accent.
They sat drinking red wine and talking about unimportant things. Then the woman who had played the piano came back downstairs with the young lieutenant. He looked at the other officers and grinned as if he was proud of having done something big, and left the Palace. The woman began to play the piano again. The violinist left his drink and came and took up his instrument and joined in with the woman.
The music was very pleasing to Jacob's ear. He took Corrine by the hand and went onto the dance floor with her. She was very practiced and made his effort to dance seem almost graceful. He focused on the woman in his arms and the delightful music. When in the mountains, he missed not only the music itself but the journeys the music took his imagination on, to lands and people of strange and faraway places he had read about. But there would be only one more winter of being deprived of those things, and a score of other pleasures that most men took for granted.
The music ended and Jacob guided Corrine back to their table. He saw Shattuck leave and his spirits brightened. He smiled at Corrine and lifted his glass to her and drank.
Corrine smiled in return, red lips parting. She clasped Jacob's hand, feeling the hard, strong bones inside their sheaths of muscle and tendon and the rough callouses on the palm. "I know a place where we can rest in a cool breeze and watch the fireflies light their little lanterns and search for love," she said.
The scene the woman described to Jacob was pleasing. Until that moment he had not been sure he would make love to her. He picked up the partially full wine bottle and two glasses and let Corrine lead him away.
* * *
Cora sat beside Maude on the seat of the small covered wagon as they waited their turn to go aboard the riverboat tied to the dock at St. Joe. The Missouri River valley was still cloaked in lingering morning dusk, for the sun had not yet risen above the eastern hills. The river flowed past silent and black.
The riverboat was a small side-wheeler with two decks and painted white. The captain stood near the pilothouse watching the passengers load. He had ordered the fires stoked beneath the boilers and smoke now streamed from the smokestack.
Mormon men, women, and children, carrying their scant belongings, climbed the slanting gangway that led to the upper deck. Pateman was helping the drivers of three large covered wagons, each drawn by two yokes of lumbering oxen and containing the tents and other supplies of the Mormons, board by a stout ramp to the lower deck.
Cora twisted on the wagon seat and looked at the town. A few rivermen were coming down Francis Street, returning to their boats after a night on the town. There was no sign of Jacob. She hoped he had not forgotten that she would be departing with the Mormons for Salt Lake City this morning.
Maude was watching her young sister and saw the frown of disappointment come over her face. "That trapper won't come to say goodbye," she said. "And you're better off for it. So forget him."
"Why don't you like Jacob?" Cora asked. "He helped me when I needed rt." She had told Maude of the discovery that Jacob had been the boy who came to her rescue when the River Rats had been molesting her in New Orleans.
"Because he's not the right man for you. He's wild as any Indian, and has no prospects for becoming wealthy. In California, you will find a man with much property."
"Is that all you think there is to men, whether they are wealthy or not?"
"I want you to marry a man with money and property," Maude said firmly. "I will help you find men like that. Then you can choose among them for the one that most pleases you."
Cora looked at Maude and tried to read her sister's impassive face. You are wrong, Cora thought. You are not my mother and I will choose my own husband. And he may be rich or he may be poor. She turned again toward the town, and immediately broke into a happy smile. Jacob was hurrying with long strides down Francis Street in her direction.
He came up to the wagon and whipped off his hat. "Good morning, Cora." He spoke to Maude, who was watching him. "And good morning to you too, Miss Dubois."
A surly, disapproving expression came over Maude's face. She turned away from Jacob without acknowledging his greeting.
Jacob was taken aback by the big woman's rudeness. He would have liked to be on good terms with her because she was Cora's sister.
He turned to Cora. "I was afraid I had missed you when I went to the Mormon camp and found all the tents gone and not a soul around." He was pleased about finding her before she left.
Jacob gave the men a hard look, but let Cora lead him away. Behind him the men watched in puzzlement.
"What did you mean by me starting another fight?" Jacob asked.
"Like in New Orleans." Cora smiled at him.
Jacob laughed. "You sure bring out the fight in me."
"You don't have to protect me anymore, for I'm a big girl now." Still, she was pleased at Jacob's reaction to the man's words.
"Yes, you are grown up and very beautiful," he said. "Sometimes a woman's beauty can be dangerous for her."
"How could that be?" Cora thought she knew, still she wanted to hear Jacob explain.
"Beautiful women are the ones men carry off," he said gruffly and fell quiet. At this moment he wanted to grab Cora, throw her upon Jubal and ride away with her to the mountains. He touched the hand that held his arm. He wouldn't ride off with her right now. Maybe later, and he smiled at the thought.
"Have you ever stolen a girl and carried her off?" Cora asked in a teasing voice.
"Just once," Jacob replied, in the same bantering voice that Cora had used.
Cora was watching Jacob's face and thought he might be telling the truth. She was shocked at the possibility. She would have liked to hear the details of such a thing, but decided it was better that she not press him further.
They reached the edge of the Mormon camp of some forty tents arranged in two rows across the meadow. The three young women at the nearest tent watched them approach. They seemed surprised at Jacob and Cora's presence.
"Who's your head man?" Jacob asked.
"Elder Clive Pateman is the company leader," a girl with red hair replied. "His tent is there in the center." She pointed.
"Is he there now?" Cora asked.
All three girls nodded in unison.
"Let's go talk with him," Cora said to Jacob.
They continued on past other staring people, mostly young women, and halted at the entrance of Pateman's tent. Jacob called out. "Hello inside. Is Clive Pateman there?"
A moment passed and a giant of a man came out of the tent, ducking his head to clear the top of the opening. He straightened and towered over Jacob's six feet by a hand width. His head was big and his chest broad. Jacob judged the giant's age at something in the middle thirties. He certainly wasn't old enough to be called "elder." That must be a church title.
"What can I do for you folks?" Pateman's voice was a deep bass. His black eyes checked Jacob with a man's glance, then moved quickly to range over Cora from her head to her feet.
Jacob saw the scrutiny Pateman gave Cora and didn't like it. In fact, he regretted having mentioned the Mormons to Cora. However, it was too late to stop what he had set in motion.
"I understand you are going to Salt Lake City soon," Cora said.
"That's correct. Why do you ask?"
"I'd like to travel with you."
"Go with us?" Pateman said in surprise. "Why, are you a Mormon?"
"Oh, no. But my sister and I want to go to California. All the wagon trains have already left. Jacob suggested that we might travel with your people to Salt Lake City this summer and then go on to California early next year. Is that possible?"
Pateman cast an enquiring look at Jacob. "You wouldn't be going with her?"
"No," Jacob said. At the reply, Jacob thought Pateman hid a smile behind his black eyes.
Pateman spoke to Cora. "We'll be taking a steamboat up-river to Florence. After that it's a long, hard journey overland, more than a thousand miles. Are you up to that?"
"My sister and I are used to traveling. We've just come from New Orleans. We survived storms and floods. Men tried to rob us but didn't succeed. You wouldn't have to worry about us. We can carry our own weight and not bother anyone asking for help."
"What kind of vehicle do you have?"
"A one-horse buggy. It's a good Phaeton buggy."
"Do you have money for supplies?"
"Yes, enough."
Pateman again looked Cora over thoroughly, and then nodded. "You and your sister can travel with us. What's your name?"
"Dubois. My given name is Cora and my sister's is Maude."
"Mine is Clive Pateman. The buggy won't do. It would never stand up to the trip, for it's all rough country with no roads. You must trade it for a one-horse covered wagon. One with good canvas that'll hold out rain. We're leaving early tomorrow morning, so you must make the trade today. I know a man who will give you a fair deal. We can go there now before it gets dark."
"Cora, I'll help you make the trade," Jacob said. "I have a friend with a yard full of wagons."
"Mr. Pateman offered first, Jacob, so I will go with him.
Jacob shrugged his shoulders and said not a word.
He didn't like being rejected again. Still, he knew Cora had to please Pateman for he could give permission for her to travel with the Mormons. He had seen the look in the big man's eye and didn't like the thought of her being with him for days on end as they journeyed to Salt Lake City. In fact, Jacob didn't like anything at all about Pateman.
"What about supplies?" Cora asked Pateman. "Should I buy them here in St. Joe?"
"Yes. All supplies are cheaper here than in Florence. Buy enough to last for three months. We will be taking along a herd of beef that you can buy a share in for fresh meat. Also, we'll kill buffalo as we go across the prairie. You can expect a short wait in Florence while we wait for the construction of the handcarts to be finished."
"Handcarts? You travel by handcarts?"
"Handcarts have been taking my people successfully to Salt Lake City for the past five years. It's hard labor, but true believers can perform nearly impossible tasks. Now we'd better get started, for it'll be dark in an hour."
"I'm ready," Cora said. She was glad she would have a wagon and not have to pull a handcart a thousand miles across the prairie and up over the mountains to Salt Lake City. She turned to Jacob. "Thank you for everything. Maybe you can come and see us off in the morning?"
"I'll surely do that." See her off, hell. He felt unsettled about how things had turned out. He had just found her and now she would be disappearing from his life after just a few hours. He should have kept his mouth shut about the Mormons and he could have enjoyed Cora's pleasant company for weeks.
Pateman offered his arm to Cora. She took it and fell into step beside him. She glanced back at Jacob. The brave boy who had fought the Rats for her in New Orleans had become quite a man. She gave him a little wave.
Jacob did not respond to the wave, merely standing and staring gloomily after Cora.
Twelve
Jacob could not resolve the problem that plagued him so tenaciously. His head was lowered as he moved through the frail moonlight on the footpath that fishermen had tramped out in the weeds along the edge of the Missouri River. He had walked the remainder of the evening after parting from Cora, and into the night, and still the question eluded an answer.
Always before now upon returning from months of trapping in the mountains, he would dress in town clothes, have a good meal, listen to some good music in the company of a pretty girl, and spend the night making love. The part about making love to some strange girl now seemed to require rethinking.
He halted and looked down the river across the black water a quarter mile to the docks at St. Joe. He stood on the outward bend of a meander of the river, upstream of the town, and the dark outlines of the boats tied up to the docks were plainly visible. Berthed at the upper end of the docks was the luxurious River Palace Steamboat. The pale light from coal oil lamps shone in the windows of the boat and fell in a row of tiny pools of yellow mist upon the river passing in the dark. He could faintly hear a piano and violin, but could not make out the tune being played. He had visited the River Palace before and knew what pleasures awaited a man there.
The discovery of Cora had created his dilemma of whether or not to go the River Palace and seek out a lady-love. While Cora had been but a beautiful memory of the past, there had been no conflict in his actions toward other women. But now the doubts loomed large.
Think clearly and be reasonable about this, Jacob told himself sternly. Cora's presence in St. Joe was only temporary. Tomorrow morning she would be gone. He recalled how Pateman had looked at her with a desirous eye. Many other men would also surely find her beautiful. Soon she would be married to some handsome, lucky fellow. The odds were impossibly large that that man would not be Jacob. In reality, he probably would never see her again once she left St. Joe. She would continue on with her life, without consideration for what he did or didn't do.
He took a deep breath of the damp air heavy with the musty mud odor of the ancient river. He felt the ageless primal urge of a young man, long denied, for a woman. "So be it," he said out loud. He strode off toward the waterfront docks. He smiled sadly in the darkness, for he wished he was on his way to visit Cora.
Jacob slowed as he came to the river docks. A man Jacob judged to be an army captain from the post located north of the town walked ahead of him in the path of light cast by three storm lanterns hanging on a cable that stretched across the dock from the land to the River Palace. The army captain went aboard the riverboat and entered the huge main deck cabin.
The River Palace was famous for its beautiful women, excellent food and drink, all of it available among elegant furnishings and polite conduct and manners. She journeyed up and down the Mississippi River and its two main tributaries, the Missouri and Ohio Rivers. She began her voyage north from New Orleans in the early spring, stopping at the cities and towns along the rivers for varying lengths of time to ply her trade and then continuing on. As the autumn brought its cooler, pleasant temperatures, the River Palace turned south and returned back along its course, to end its journey in New Orleans where it spent the frigid winter months.
Jacob went on board the River Palace and entered the salon of the main deck to the sound of the piano and violin being skilfully played. At the right end of the long room five military officers, a mixture of army and navy men, were resplendent in full dress uniforms. Only their swords were missing. The navy officers would be from the gunboat he had earlier seen tied to the dock. The men sat holding drinks and talking with three blond women. One was the pretty woman who had smiled and winked at Jacob on the street. She was facing partially away and had not noticed his entrance. Several men in civilian clothes danced with women on the polished hardwood floor in the center of the room. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.
A young army lieutenant leaned on the end of the piano and listened to a woman, equally young, play a light, airy tune. A fat, bald-headed man accompanied her on a violin. The musical rendition came to a close, and the lieutenant caught the woman's hand. She smiled, stood up and led him from the room. The man with the violin placed it on top of the piano and went to the small bar against the wall and ordered a drink.
The woman he had seen on the street looked past the officers surrounding her and saw Jacob. She watched him a moment and then excused herself and walked to meet him. He doffed his hat and half bowed to the woman.
The woman's rouged lips formed a gracious smile. "I'm Corrine, and I welcome you." Jacob clasped the soft hand she offered. She had a slight French accent similar to Cora and Renne. Jacob liked it.
"I'm Jacob Morgan." He couldn't help but smile back at the pretty woman.
"May I have your hat, Jacob?" Corrine asked.
Jacob started to give his hat to Corrine when a man and woman came down from the upper deck by steps at die far end of the room. They walked toward the bar. Jacob's smile fell away as he recognized Wade Shattuck. He believed the man was a fur thief. If that was true, then Shattuck was as guilty of murder as were the Indians who had killed Branham's man in the mountains. Jacob knew Shattuck was his enemy without a word being spoken.
Shattuck said something to the woman with him and she left and went toward the four officers. He swung his view around observing the occupants of the room. He saw Jacob watching him, and recognized the young trapper of Kinshaw's band. The nosy fellow had found Tom Branham's initials on the stolen furs. Shattuck cursed silently and raised a hand to clasp his coat close to his shoulder holster. He should have examined the furs when Wolf Voice's braves had brought them to him. Why in hell hadn't Wolf Voice killed the trappers after Shattuck had identified them for him? The Indian must have had plenty of opportunities on the campaign after the Sioux.
Corrine saw Jacob look past her, and his eyes become frosty and hard. His hand moved to hover near the butt of the pistol showing under the tail of his coat. She twisted to look in the same direction. Wade Shattuck was poised on the balls of his feet. His face and body were taut as he stared back at Jacob. She sensed the deep enmity between the two men and wondered what had caused it.
"What's wrong, Jacob?" Corrine asked in a tone hardly above a whisper.
At her question, Jacob began to smile tight-lipped. He showed no worry or alarm. Just a readiness to fight. Maybe a desire to fight.
"Shattuck acts like he owns the River Palace," Jacob said.
"He's quarter owner. When the Palace is in St. Joe, he comes often to sample for free what’s offered."
Some of the tenseness left Jacob as he mentally reined himself in. So Shattuck was a whoremaster as well as a murderer and fur thief. However, the quarrel about ownership of the furs was Branham's to take up with Shattuck. Jacob hoped he would soon encounter Branham so he could tell him about the furs. The battle between the two men would be something to see.
"Pour us a drink and talk a little with me," Jacob said. He would not let Shattuck drive him away from the pretty woman with the nice French accent.
They sat drinking red wine and talking about unimportant things. Then the woman who had played the piano came back downstairs with the young lieutenant. He looked at the other officers and grinned as if he was proud of having done something big, and left the Palace. The woman began to play the piano again. The violinist left his drink and came and took up his instrument and joined in with the woman.
The music was very pleasing to Jacob's ear. He took Corrine by the hand and went onto the dance floor with her. She was very practiced and made his effort to dance seem almost graceful. He focused on the woman in his arms and the delightful music. When in the mountains, he missed not only the music itself but the journeys the music took his imagination on, to lands and people of strange and faraway places he had read about. But there would be only one more winter of being deprived of those things, and a score of other pleasures that most men took for granted.
The music ended and Jacob guided Corrine back to their table. He saw Shattuck leave and his spirits brightened. He smiled at Corrine and lifted his glass to her and drank.
Corrine smiled in return, red lips parting. She clasped Jacob's hand, feeling the hard, strong bones inside their sheaths of muscle and tendon and the rough callouses on the palm. "I know a place where we can rest in a cool breeze and watch the fireflies light their little lanterns and search for love," she said.
The scene the woman described to Jacob was pleasing. Until that moment he had not been sure he would make love to her. He picked up the partially full wine bottle and two glasses and let Corrine lead him away.
* * *
Cora sat beside Maude on the seat of the small covered wagon as they waited their turn to go aboard the riverboat tied to the dock at St. Joe. The Missouri River valley was still cloaked in lingering morning dusk, for the sun had not yet risen above the eastern hills. The river flowed past silent and black.
The riverboat was a small side-wheeler with two decks and painted white. The captain stood near the pilothouse watching the passengers load. He had ordered the fires stoked beneath the boilers and smoke now streamed from the smokestack.
Mormon men, women, and children, carrying their scant belongings, climbed the slanting gangway that led to the upper deck. Pateman was helping the drivers of three large covered wagons, each drawn by two yokes of lumbering oxen and containing the tents and other supplies of the Mormons, board by a stout ramp to the lower deck.
Cora twisted on the wagon seat and looked at the town. A few rivermen were coming down Francis Street, returning to their boats after a night on the town. There was no sign of Jacob. She hoped he had not forgotten that she would be departing with the Mormons for Salt Lake City this morning.
Maude was watching her young sister and saw the frown of disappointment come over her face. "That trapper won't come to say goodbye," she said. "And you're better off for it. So forget him."
"Why don't you like Jacob?" Cora asked. "He helped me when I needed rt." She had told Maude of the discovery that Jacob had been the boy who came to her rescue when the River Rats had been molesting her in New Orleans.
"Because he's not the right man for you. He's wild as any Indian, and has no prospects for becoming wealthy. In California, you will find a man with much property."
"Is that all you think there is to men, whether they are wealthy or not?"
"I want you to marry a man with money and property," Maude said firmly. "I will help you find men like that. Then you can choose among them for the one that most pleases you."
Cora looked at Maude and tried to read her sister's impassive face. You are wrong, Cora thought. You are not my mother and I will choose my own husband. And he may be rich or he may be poor. She turned again toward the town, and immediately broke into a happy smile. Jacob was hurrying with long strides down Francis Street in her direction.
He came up to the wagon and whipped off his hat. "Good morning, Cora." He spoke to Maude, who was watching him. "And good morning to you too, Miss Dubois."
A surly, disapproving expression came over Maude's face. She turned away from Jacob without acknowledging his greeting.
Jacob was taken aback by the big woman's rudeness. He would have liked to be on good terms with her because she was Cora's sister.
He turned to Cora. "I was afraid I had missed you when I went to the Mormon camp and found all the tents gone and not a soul around." He was pleased about finding her before she left.
