7. Seven
Why hadn’t she thought of something so simple sooner? Camilla hurried out of the study and into the wide hallway. Where to start such a laborious task hinged on a simple factor and a crucial bit of information.
“Oh!”
The feminine yelp snatched Camilla from her thoughts and her gaze from the floor in time to see a basket fly from a woman’s arms as their forms collided. On instinct, she snagged the other woman’s elbow and kept her from sprawling on the floor when her feet tangled in her slim dress.
Skirts always were such a hazard. Good thing she’d not encumbered herself with one. She steadied the slight woman.
“Sorry about that. I didn’t see you. Lost in my thoughts, I’m afraid.” Camilla scooped up the basket, and three oranges rolled out. She plucked them from the floor and tossed them back inside. “Here.”
The other woman clutched the lace collar of her sage-green dress. Wide hazel eyes blinked. “Who are you?”
“Easy, Mabel.” Daniel appeared at Camilla’s side. “This is Captain Camilla Lockhart. She’s our guest.”
Shoes slapped against the floor, and a second later, Lucas snagged his mother’s skirt. “She’s a pirate!”
“What?” The fair woman paled further, making the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced.
Camilla hiked a brow. “Now what did I tell you, Lucas? Just because I have a boat doesn’t make me a pirate like in one of your stories.”
“Daniel?” The lady who must be his sister attempted to tuck her child behind her, but the boy sidestepped her grasp and marched up to Camilla.
“You said you were a lady captain.”
“I did. But that doesn’t make me a pirate. Pirates steal things, and I would never do that.”
His cheeks bunched. “Why not?”
“Because Jesus tells us not to.”
The child chewed on that for a second and then looked up at Daniel. “I reckon she’s right. Still, I think a lady pirate would be interesting.”
“An honest lady riverboat captain is interesting enough.” Daniel chuckled. “Now aren’t you supposed to be hunting frogs? You didn’t give up on your arithmetic again, did you?”
“Frogs?” Mabel waved a gloved hand over her face. “Pirates and frogs. What in the heavens did I miss when I went to pick up supper?”
Camilla glanced at the basket the woman hadn’t taken back. They were having oranges for supper? Odd. She didn’t see any meat or vegetables. But maybe folks who didn’t live on steamboats ate different meals. Or maybe Mabel was going to make a pie. Yes, that made more sense. Women baked fruit pies all the time, didn’t they?
Daniel stuffed his hands in his pockets, a gesture it seemed he often did when flustered. The man did get flustered a lot. But then, in the short time she’d been in his acquaintance, there had been a few things to get ruffled over.
“Stella told him if he finished all of his schooling, he could look for frogs with Bo,” Daniel said. “I didn’t see the harm in that.”
Mabel’s porcelain skin took on a greenish hue. She waved her hand like she could shoo the idea from the room. “Fine, fine. So long as someone keeps a close eye on him. You know how exuberant he can be.”
“What’s exuberant?” Lucas bounced on his toes.
“Means you have a lot of energy and sometimes that energy gets you into trouble.” Daniel nudged the boy back to the dining room. “How many more problems do you need to figure?”
“Just two.”
“Good. Then get them finished so you can go.”
Lucas threw up a hand in a childish version of a salute. “Good day, Lady Captain!”
She returned the gesture, and the boy dissolved into giggles before dashing from the room.
Seemed everyone had forgotten about Mabel’s basket. Should she try to hand it to the woman again or set it on the floor?
“Do forgive my manners.” Mabel drew herself up and tucked a strand of light-brown hair underneath a bowl-shaped hat matching her dress. “I’m Mrs. Mabel Shoemaker.”
Maybe she should buy an outfit like that. Just for churchgoings, of course. Not much use for such nice things on a rickety steamboat.
Daniel shifted his feet. “And this is Captain Camilla Lockhart.”
Hadn’t he already said that? Oh. Right. She’d forgotten her manners. Bless him for the subtle reminder she needed to introduce herself even if others already knew her name. She thrust out her hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Shoemaker.”
Mabel blinked at Camilla’s waiting palm before extending her own. Camilla gave her a couple of pumps like Papa had taught her. Not too limp to be considered a weakling and not too tight to be seen as someone with something to prove.
But Mabel had twisted her hand as though she’d meant to turn her knuckles up instead of to the side, which gave Camilla an odd grip.
Mabel extracted her hand with a questioning look at her brother, who stuffed his hands in his pockets.
“Captain Lockhart is going to help us with our project.”
“Oh?” Mabel stepped closer and lowered her voice. Who did she worry might overhear? “When you mentioned a riverboat captain who could help us, I didn’t picture a woman. And so young and pretty a one at that.”
Should she consider that a compliment or an insult? Camilla offered a friendly smile. “Not the first time I’ve been mistaken for a man.”
Oh dear.
That didn’t come out like she’d intended. “Not because of the pants, mind. I do own a dress. Trousers are just more practical on a boat. No tangling around your legs or blowing up to show your drawers.”
Mabel’s lips parted.
Uh-oh.
Probably shouldn’t have said drawers. Hadn’t she learned ladies could be fickle about words men never seemed to mind? Judging by the bright-red splotches on her cheeks, Mabel was one of those types of ladies.
Camilla blew out a breath. “What I mean to say is there’s no word for female captain. No Mr. Captain or Miss Captain, so most folks assume a captain to be a man.”
Daniel’s lips curved. “Captain Lockhart inherited the scavenger boat from her father but earned her captain’s license in her own right. I have every confidence she possesses the skills to navigate the journey.”
Her spine straightened a fraction. Bless him for trying to help smooth out her awkwardness. “Thank you. But the Alma May is not a scavenger boat. I’m not sure where those rumors started. True, we will haul just about any cargo we are paid to deliver, and sure, once we were hired to clean up after a boiler burst and bits of a steamer went sky-high, littering pieces of a packet boat all over the water. But we weren’t scavenging. We were recovering and cleaning.”
Mabel fiddled with the lace on her dress again, her gaze darting between Daniel and Camilla.
Had she said something wrong? This lady must be one of those delicate types Papa had told her about. They didn’t like discussing anything more than peach cobblers or the weather. Though how a person functioned through the trials of life like that, she had no idea.
“My apologies. Salvage boat was a notion I found in the book. I should have clarified with you.” Daniel offered a sheepish shrug, then directed his next words to his sister. “Grandfather noted Father had hired a boat for a salvage operation.”
“If the boat you’re after sunk, you won’t be salvaging anything.” Camilla crossed her arms. A point worth repeating since these folks didn’t seem to understand the nature of the river. What went under never resurfaced.
Never.
“But the boat may not have sunk at all. Father had been close. I know it.” Daniel smacked a fist against his palm. When his sister started, he gentled a tone that had grown excited. “Don’t worry. We’ll find the rest of the inheritance.”
Inheritance? Weren’t they looking for a lost treasure? Maybe he considered it all the same.
She glanced around the hallway. Come to think of it, it must cost a lot to maintain a house this big. But then, if they couldn’t afford the property, they could always sell it. So what if the Natchez bigwigs frowned on that? A person had to do what was best, not what looked good to others.
“Very well.” Mabel stretched a tired smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “Could you drive me to Cloverdale in the morning? I left a favorite hatpin in the drawer of my old secretary, and I’d like to retrieve it before the bank comes.”
“You want to drive all the way out there for a hatpin?” Daniel’s brow furrowed.
This sudden shift in topic sounded like a private affair, so Camilla stepped back to deposit the basket she still clutched onto a low couch. Maybe she could pretend to look at the paintings while they talked.
“I thought I could do without it, but I’ve changed my mind.”
“That’s over six miles, Mabel.”
Camilla drifted to the staircase and studied a painting of a woman with a sharp nose and a bell-shaped white dress. She wore her hair parted down the middle with curls by her ears.
“I said I changed my mind.” Mabel’s voice faltered. “Please take me. You can drive the motorcar. Lucas would enjoy the outing.”
“I’ve sold the motorcar. They will come retrieve it in the morning.”
His soft sorrow nudged Camilla’s heart. He cared for his sister. Papa always said you could tell a lot about a person by how they cared for those closest to them.
“Why? I thought you said we could keep it.” Each word pitched higher. “We aren’t that close to being destitute, are we? We already let out all the rooms.”
Camilla edged around the staircase to give them more privacy. She wasn’t eavesdropping. Not truly. She couldn’t help but overhear them. And they wouldn’t want her poking around their private rooms to give them more space.
“We aren’t destitute. I promise, it will be all right.”
“Then why did you sell Grandfather’s motorcar?”
“I needed the money.”
Something cold slithered through Camilla’s veins. Uh-oh.
“For what?” Mabel fired out the demand with more spunk than anything Camilla had heard thus far.
“I needed it to secure Captain Lockhart’s services, but we can buy another one as soon as—”
“No. No, I won’t have it. Tell the man coming that you’ve changed your mind and you won’t be selling. He can keep his money.”
“I can’t.” Daniel’s voice lowered, though Camilla had no problem hearing him. Perhaps because she leaned so far in that direction she might topple over. She righted herself and slowed her breathing as he finished. “I already have a contract with Captain Lockhart.”
“But why?” No problem at all hearing Mabel’s screeched words.
Perhaps Camilla should step outside. It didn’t seem right to keep listening in, especially given the argument centered on her. She let herself out the front door as quietly as she could and strode to the porch railing.
The white paint flaked in places, creating scales beneath her palms. She closed her eyes, and the hot breeze dried the sheen of sweat from her brow. Either Daniel would honor their contract, or he wouldn’t. Either way, she’d resupplied her boat, and she’d insist that portion of the payment was forfeited as compensation for breaking their deal.
But what about the ten dollars he’d spent on their docking fees? She didn’t have the money to pay him back until Mr. Copeland transferred the two hundred dollars he owed her. She leaned her elbows on the rail. She’d have to consider sixty dollars as compensation, then.
Ahead, a squat tug navigated a flat showboat down the water. Giant red letters splayed across the white side—The River Queen.
Did anyone go to those things anymore? Papa had taken her once as a small girl. She didn’t remember much about the play, but she did remember the juggler and the jaunty whistles of the calliope calling folks to see the show. Papa had bought her popped corn and taffy. It had been soon after Mama died, and he’d thought she didn’t notice him wiping his eyes in the dark theater. She’d held his hand and smiled as the music played. That had seemed to make him feel better.
The showboat disappeared around the bend, and she closed her eyes. She’d gotten through hard times before. She could do it again. They didn’t need Mr. Gray’s money. Probably better if they found a more traditional job anyway.
The front door banged against the house, and small shoes pounded across the planks. Camilla smiled without opening her eyes. Little Lucas must have been loosed from his arithmetic prison and could now embark on frogging adventures.
“Hold on now!” Stella’s huffing voice followed.
The boy bounding down the steps ground to a halt with a groan. “But you’re so slow, Stella. All the frogs will be gone before I get there!”
“They won’t do nothing of the sort.” She rolled her eyes and shot Camilla an exasperated smile.
Camilla pushed off the railing. “Mind if I walk to town with you?”
“Don’t mind at all.” Stella tugged a glove over her slender fingers. “You can help me keep an eye on that young’un.”
Camilla fell into step. “Have you lived in Natchez all your life?”
“Sure have.” Stella fit a hat over dark hair where the wrap had been tied earlier. “How ’bout you? Haven’t seen you in these parts. Not that I stay round the docks much anymore.”
“My home is the stretch of water from Vicksburg to Louisiana.”
Stella nodded and then mumbled something about boys as wild as foxes before cupping a hand to her mouth and shouting at Lucas. “You get out of my sight, and it’s straight back to the table for you!”
The boy slowed his steps, scowled over his shoulder, then kicked a rock.
“Thought you were supposed to be helping Danny with something.” Stella waved back toward the house. “He coming to town too?”
“I’m not sure.” Camilla tucked her thumbs into her pockets. “He and his sister were having a private discussion, so I slipped out. I don’t know if we will be working together or not.”
“Do you want to work with him?”
Now why would she ask something like that? Camilla cut a sidelong glance at the other woman, but her dark eyes were focused on the boy wrestling a weed from its roots a bit too close to the cliff’s edge.
“He promised a good wage. Something me and my crew need. But if it doesn’t work out, we’ll find something else. We always do.”
Stella patted her arm. “’Course you will. Any woman who is brave enough to captain the Wild River can do anything.”
Warmth spread through Camilla’s chest. For the first time in a long while, hope mingled with determination and anchored down.