“Not sure, miss, but I spotted one of your father’s men on the street, and he signaled for me to turn. Thought I better see what was up.”
“Was it someone you trust?” Alarm bells rang in Nicole’s head. What if this was some sort of trap? What if Jenkins had paid off some of her father’s men to learn the details of her trip in order to kidnap her and hold her for ransom?
“It was Albert Mathis.”
Nicole released a breath and sat back. Albert Mathis had worked for her father for nearly twenty years. He’d not betray them.
John brought the team to a halt at the same time Mr. Mathis dodged around the edge of the nearest building. Just to be cautious, Nicole pulled her knife from the side pouch of her satchel. Trust was all well and good, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
Chapter 4
Mathis looked up and down the street and then jogged over to the carriage. Nicole lowered the window glass.
“We’ve got a problem.” He didn’t really look at her. He continued to search the street as if afraid someone would discover them at any moment.
Nicole’s stomach clenched. “Is it Jenkins?”
“Yep.” Mathis spoke through gritted teeth. “Those boys of his planted themselves on the dock in front of the Midnight Lady. They’re just standing there, waiting. My guess is, for you.”
“But how did they know?” Nicole laid her knife on the seat cushion, grabbed hold of the window ledge, and thrust her face fully into the opening. She wanted to see his face as he made his explanation. “Papa didn’t even put my name on the manifest. None of the crew outside of the Midnight Lady’s captain knew to expect me on board.”
Mathis met her gaze without blinking. “I busied myself on the docks nearby hoping to overhear something, but the only thing they did was argue over whether or not it was the right ship. Then Fletcher said something about it having to be because it was the only Renard ship scheduled to leave between nine and noon, and that she had specifically said you’d be leaving after breakfast.”
“She said?” Nicole latched on to the descriptor. “A woman told them?”
“Apparently.” A scowl furrowed his brow.
“That doesn’t make sense.” Nicole plopped her chin on the back of one of her hands still braced on the window ledge. “The only women aware of my travel plans are myself and my mother.”
From up in the box, John muttered a curse. “You’re forgettin’ Margie.”
“Our cook?” The very idea was ludicrous. Or was it? Margie had access to the entire house. She could listen at any door she wanted, and they’d never know.
The thought jarred Nicole back onto the cushioned seat. The sound she’d heard that morning in Papa’s study. What if Margie had been spying on her? She might have figured out that Nicole had the Lafitte Dagger—information she could sell to Carson Jenkins for a handsome price. And she had likely overheard the details of Nicole’s itinerary. The family had discussed it during dinner last evening, never giving a second thought to the woman who came in to remove dishes and serve dessert.
“She’s been actin’ kind of skittish lately,” John said. “Nothing I could put my finger on. But ever since the break-in, I’ve wondered why she didn’t come fetch me from the coach house. Her room is right off the kitchen, easy access to the back porch. If she heard the intruders—and she should have—she could have come running for help. She didn’t.”
Nicole closed her eyes as her suspicion deepened. “I assumed she’d simply been too frightened to leave her room.”
“Maybe.” John didn’t sound too convinced. “But then there’s the trouble with the door. I examined the lock from every possible angle, Miss Nicki. There was no evidence that it had been busted or tampered with. If I had to guess, I’d say someone had simply left it unlocked the night the Jenkins boys paid their call.” He pounded his leg with a fist. “I should have talked to your father about my suspicions, but I hesitated to accuse Margie.”
Nicole slouched farther into the seat. “It’s not your fault, John. You couldn’t know how it would turn out.” Why would Margie do such a thing? Her chest ached to think someone she’d trusted could have betrayed them in such a way. But at that moment, the whys weren’t as important as the hows. The chief one being: How was she going to circumvent the Jenkins brothers?
“Maybe you ought to just turn around and take the girl back home, John,” Mathis suggested.
Nicole jerked forward. “No!” If she went home now, she would have failed before she’d begun. Unacceptable. There was a way around this. She just needed to think. Turn the circumstances to their advantage.
“Mr. Mathis?” she asked, the germ of an idea taking shape in her mind. “Have any other of my father’s ships left port today?”
The older man pulled off his hat and scratched his graying head. “Morning Glory sailed with the early tide. Cargo only. No passengers on the manifest.”
“Perfect.” Nicole smiled as she fleshed out the bones of her rapidly forming plan. It’d be brazen, and there were a few holes she’d have to work out later, but it could work.
“All right, gentlemen. Here’s what we’re going to do.” She fastened her attention on the man in the street. “Mr. Mathis is going to escort me through the alleyways to the west end of the docks, where I will purchase a ticket on one of the riverboats.”
“But the riverboats don’t go to New Orleans, Miss Nicki,” John pointed out, his tone growing rather alarmed. “They go to Houston. And that rowdy town ain’t no place for a young lady on her own. Your father would skin my hide if I let you go there.”
“Houston’s not the only destination,” Mathis said thoughtfully. “She could travel up the Trinity to Liberty. It’s smaller, more settled. Sam Houston himself prefers it and even keeps a law office there. It’d be safe enough.”
“Not to mention closer to New Orleans,” Nicole added. “I won’t need to stay there long. Just long enough to throw Jenkins off the scent. Then I can come back down the Trinity to Galveston Bay and board one of Papa’s steamers to New Orleans as originally planned.
“John, I want you to continue on to the Midnight Lady, just as if I’m still in the coach. I’ll draw the curtains over the windows and leave one of my trunks tied to the back to keep Will and Fletcher’s attention. My guess is they’ll pounce on the carriage the moment you leave to see about the luggage. And that’s exactly what we want.”
“It is?”
Nicole grinned. “Yes. Because when they make their move, you will return to confront them. You’ll act as if the information they learned from Margie was nothing more than a clever ruse. We wanted them to believe I was sailing on the Midnight Lady, you’ll explain, because then they wouldn’t be around to witness the sailing of Morning Glory.” She smiled. “And it wouldn’t hurt for you to gloat a little.”
Mathis caught the spirit of her scheme and started nodding. “They’ll assume they’ve missed you and won’t search the docks for another possible departure.”
“Exactly. We’ll discredit Margie’s information so the Jenkinses won’t trust whatever else she might be tempted to disclose, and we’ll clear the path for me to make my run to Liberty. John can leave a message with the Midnight Lady’s captain that I will not be sailing as planned, and he can forward it on to the Ackermans.”
“I’ll also have to explain the situation to your father,” John said, dread lacing his voice. “He won’t be pleased with this development.”
“True,” Nicole agreed, “but I suspect he’ll appreciate my improvisation. I’m still accomplishing his plan, just taking a slightly different route to get there. Tell him not to expect to hear from me anytime soon and not to try to contact me. Jenkins will probably be watching the mail, so writing would just give away my position. In fact, no one but the three of us and my parents should even be aware of my detour. Everyone else should be left to assume I traveled to New Orleans as originally arranged.”
“I don’t like it,” John groused.
Nicole sighed
. “Well, it’s not my first choice, either, but it will work. I feel it.”
“Can’t argue with the Renard gut,” Mathis said with a smile, winking at her through the window. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”
John grumbled something incoherent from the driver’s box. Nicole opted to interpret it as agreement. They didn’t have any more time to argue. They were perilously close to giving themselves away by being late to the launch. Will and Fletcher weren’t exactly the patient sort. If her carriage didn’t show up soon, one of them was bound to get antsy and leave his post to come looking for her. She couldn’t afford that.
“All right, then,” she announced with a slap of her palm against her thigh. “Let’s get going.” In a flash, she had the window latched and the curtains drawn. She slipped her knife back into the satchel, opened the door, and allowed Mathis to help her alight.
“You need anything from your big trunk, Miss Nicki?” John swiveled in the driver’s box to face her, his face as bland as always. She couldn’t help smiling at him.
“Just the extra funds Maman packed for me.” She circled to the rear of the carriage, where Mr. Mathis was collecting her smaller trunk, but before she could unfasten a single strap, an ominous clacking of hooves against paving stones rent the air.
“Someone’s coming,” John hissed.
Nicole froze. She couldn’t be seen. If word got back to Fletcher Jenkins, their ruse would never work.
“Go, John!” she ordered. The Renard carriage traveling on a side road would stir enough suspicion without it being stopped. There was no help for it. If he didn’t hold up appearances for her, they’d be sunk.
“But the money.”
“We don’t have time. I have enough in my satchel. I’ll be fine. Go!” Without giving him a chance to argue, she grabbed her satchel and ran for the far side of the alley, praying Mr. Mathis would follow with the small trunk. He did.
The two ducked into the nearest alleyway and pressed their backs against the wall, Nicole doing her best not to think about how few coins actually resided in the pocket of her satchel lining. It was enough to purchase a ticket upriver, but it wouldn’t afford her much to live off of afterward. She’d deal with that side of things later, though. Right now, her concern was getting the dagger out of Galveston.
Once the second carriage passed, Mathis stole around the corner and signaled to her. Nicole kept her head down and shadowed his steps, not wanting to draw any attention. Her ears pricked at every sound. Her heart thumped with each footstep. When she and Mathis finally emerged into the bustle of merchants and passengers swarming the west end of the Galveston docks, the crowd offered her anonymity, but she still couldn’t relax. Not until she had the dagger safely away. She jolted at every brush against her arm, flinched at every shout. Her muscles had gone so stiff, it was a miracle she could bend when Mathis pushed her into a chair inside one of the river shipping offices and went to inquire about the next boat upriver.
When he returned, Mathis said, “They have a boat leaving in twenty minutes. There are no private chambers available, but there is a ladies’ saloon where you can pass the time in the company of other females.”
Nicole opened her satchel and extracted her money purse. “That should do nicely. Will you see to my trunk while I purchase my passage?”
Mathis bowed to her. “Of course, miss.”
Thankful that he had the wherewithal not to use her name, Nicole smiled her appreciation and made her way up to the ticket counter. She’d been away from home for most of two years and had rarely ventured down to this end of the docks even when home, so most of the men milling about were strangers to her. Hopefully she was a stranger to them, as well. It would make things so much easier should Jenkins decide to ask around about her. It was too late to alter her physical appearance, but at least she could assume a false name. Surely there were enough young brunettes boarding various vessels around the docks to provide adequate cover.
“I’d like to book passage to Liberty, please.”
The clerk smiled kindly, if a bit condescendingly. “Name?”
“Juliet Greyson.” Jules was one of her dearest friends from school. She was always scheming and looking for ways to circumvent the rigid rules Miss Rochester insisted they follow. Nicole doubted she’d mind lending her the use of her name for a few hours. The girl would probably think it all a great lark.
“All right, Miss Greyson. Do you wish to purchase a return ticket, as well?”
“No, thank you. I’m not yet sure when I will be returning.” Or when she’d have enough funds for another ticket. She counted out the necessary coins and pushed them toward the clerk, trying not to think about the paltry sum left in her purse.
“Very well.” The clerk collected the money, made a note in his ledger, then handed her a paper ticket. An illustration of a paddle-wheeler decorated the top along with the name of the boat, followed by her name, destination, and date, all completed in the clerk’s tidy script. “Boarding is already underway. You’ll need to hurry if you hope to find a chair in the saloon. They fill quickly.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. Thank you.” She replaced her purse in her satchel and turned to find Mr. Mathis waiting to escort her.
“I paid for a man to unload your trunk when you arrive at the landing in Liberty. It will be waiting for you when you disembark.” He offered her his arm and led her down the dock to the loading ramp.
“Thank you. You’ve been such a help to me, Mr. Mathis. I’m not sure what I would have done had you not flagged us down with your warning.”
He patted her arm and grinned down at her in a very fatherly sort of way. “You would have managed.” Steadying her as she climbed the wooden ramp, he remained by her side until the porter examined her ticket and extended a hand to assist her aboard.
“Tell my father not to worry,” she whispered fiercely before releasing her escort’s arm. “Everything will be fine.”
“I’ll tell him,” he assured her.
As Nicole made her way to the ladies’ saloon and found an unobtrusive corner to disappear into, she prayed her parting words proved more accurate than the name on her ticket.
Chapter 5
The riverboat cruise up the Trinity to Liberty proved uneventful, and Nicole managed to secure a modestly priced room at a boardinghouse run by a doctor and his wife, a house recommended to her by one of the ladies she’d met in the boat’s saloon. The fee included dinner and breakfast the following morning, so when she left the boardinghouse to search for employment, her spirits and energy were high. By midafternoon, however, both had sunk to rather dismal depths.
No one was hiring. Or at least no one was hiring an unknown young woman who’d arrived in town the previous evening unescorted and under mysterious circumstances. It didn’t help that she was only looking for temporary employment. By the time she figured out that bit of honesty was hurting her prospects, she’d already visited half the businesses in town.
She hated lying. Every time she entered a shop and offered Juliet’s name as her own, her conscience cringed. Then she compounded matters by starting to withhold her intention of leaving in a few weeks. No doubt the merchants she’d approached could sense her perfidy. That had to be why each and every one of them sent her away.
But what was she to do? She couldn’t draw Jenkins a map by dropping her name like bread crumbs. If he or his sons found her before she made it to New Orleans, the dagger was as good as gone.
Of course, if she couldn’t find work, her money was as good as gone. Another bleak prospect.
Nicole groaned and dropped onto a bench outside a tiny frame building painted with large white letters proclaiming it to be Liberty’s post office. Her feet hurt, her stomach gurgled from having missed lunch, and the dagger bulging from her too-small sheath had nearly rubbed her inner thigh raw.
She had not wanted to leave it in her room, even buried in her satchel. The doctor and his wife seemed like kind, honorable people, but who knew what the
other guests might be like. What if someone started snooping through her things, looking for valuables to pilfer? So she’d opted to keep it in her garter sheath in lieu of her usual—much thinner, much more comfortable—blade. The jewels alone would tempt a thief to take it even if he were unaware of the legend surrounding it. So she’d make do keeping it with her. Perhaps the doctor would have some salve she could borrow tonight.
She might need a headache powder, too. Nicole winced and raised her gloved fingers to rub the throbbing place at her temple. The pain had been growing in proportion to the number of merchants who denied her employment during the course of the last four hours.
What would she do if she couldn’t find work? She had enough funds for another night or two at the boardinghouse, but then her purse would be empty.
Nicole twisted her head to look through the window behind her. She could write to her father. But that would mean giving up her plan—because her father would surely demand she return home. Worse, it would announce her location to Jenkins. The man’s second cousin ran the Galveston post office and could easily be convinced to hold on to a letter addressed to Anton Renard long enough to give Jenkins a head start in tracking her down.
No. It was too soon to give up. She could still make this work. All she needed was a job to . . .
Help Wanted. Nicole squinted at the lettering barely visible on the back wall by the postmaster’s counter. Sucking in a breath, she shamelessly pressed her face to the window glass. A notice hung beneath the narrow sign. Several notices. Tacked to the wall. Small scraps of paper curling at the edges. Some fresh and new, others faded and tattered.
They were the most beautiful wall decorations she’d ever seen.
Her hunger forgotten, she sprang from the bench on reenergized legs and dashed to the door. At the last minute she remembered to brush out her skirt and straighten her undersleeves before entering.
“Afternoon.” The man behind the counter set aside the papers he was sorting and smiled at her.