putting into dock beside her tomorrow night at Bridgerton Landing. Big gambling day for both boats with rich folks coming from all over.”
Something...a mouse, tumbled from Ivy’s hat! He swatted at the dirty vermin, anxious to keep it off Ivy.
She laughed, reached out and caught the creature in the palm of her hand.
She nuzzled its white head with her nose.
“Don’t tell me you’re skittish over a little old mouse?”
“Repelled more than—”
All of a sudden Ivy placed the mouse in his hand.
“Little Mouse is a sweet thing once you get to know her.”
The “sweet thing” nipped his thumb.
“See? She likes you?”
“Where’d it come from?”
Ivy took the hat from her head, pointed to a pocket attached to the brim.
“She lives here in my hat when we’re out. She’s got her own little cage in my room.” The mouse leapt from his hand and onto Ivy’s shirt. It scrambled up to sit on her shoulder. “You will keep my secret, won’t you? There’d be the dickens to pay if anyone but Tom knew about her.”
“It can’t be healthy, wearing a rodent on your head.”
“Well, she’s white, and not vermin. Little Mouse is as clean as you or me. And she’s tidy of habit...goes off to do her business.”
“Ivy, that’s—”
“None of your business, Travis.” Her eyes narrowed at him, daring him, he thought, to believe otherwise.
“Not my business to tell, is what I was about to say. But I still don’t think mice ought to live in ladies’ hats.”
All of a sudden she started to laugh, deep from her belly.
“Can’t you picture that?” she sputtered, trying but not able to control her giggles. “All the screaming and swatting...the fainting?”
He did see it, smiled, then burst out laughing along with her. He sat up, bent over at the middle. All of a sudden his worry felt twenty pounds lighter.
When the humor began to even out, she swatted his knee.
“It’s a lucky thing I’m no lady. I’d sooner fall in the river and never come up than be like one of those poor females.”
He’d always been partial to the sweet gender, enjoyed their delicate, flirtatious ways.
But he’d never forget Ivy. She was not the water nymph he’d fantasized over...she was so much more.
* * *
Morning dawned bright as a new penny. Climbing the outdoor stairs to the pilothouse Ivy breathed deep, savoring the fresh scent of river and pine.
This was going to be a good day filled with the wonder of learning the river, then come nightfall the excitement of games of chance.
“Howdy-do, Uncle Patrick!” She crossed the small space to give her uncle a hug around the middle. “Did we turn a profit last night?”
“Not much, my money-minded little love, but tonight we should earn enough to keep you happy.”
“I’m only money minded so that we can keep the boat going. You know I don’t give a fig about the fancy things to be had with it.”
“Maybe you ought to.” Uncle Patrick’s bushy white eyebrows nearly touched when he frowned down at her. “How are you ever going to get a husband dressed like a boy?”
“Why would I want one of those?” Her uncle meant well, but his aim for her life was a mite different than her own. “I’m happy as a mudsucker here with you.”
“A woman needs a home and family.”
“Not this woman.” She placed her hands on the wheel. It was so large it extended below deck. She felt a thrum pulsing through the wood. The power of the engine, the pull of the boat drawing through water, was right under her fingertips.
Exhilaration claimed her to her toes and back.
“No swimming for you tonight, young lady. The gamblers won’t be abed at all.”
“I hope not.”
“And don’t you go sneaking off to gamble, either.”
“I’ll keep my clothes on, but I won’t promise not to earn us a fistful of money.” She nudged her uncle in the ribs, shot him a grin. He’d always claimed to disapprove of her gambling, but she was skilled at it. In spite of his duty-bound admonitions, she knew he was proud of her. “Besides, I’m looking for someone who might be on the Belle.”
“A man?” Her uncle asked, overstating his hope.
“A woman...for a man.”
“You matchmaking for one of the roustabouts?”
“There’s a passenger, a nice, friendly fellow named Travis, looking for the heir to the ranch he ramrods. If he doesn’t find her the ranch will be lost.”
“And she’s one of our passengers?”
“Not that I’ve heard of. Travis is under the belief that she lives on the Queen. But since I’m the only woman living here, I reckon he wasted good money on the Pinkerton he hired.”
“A Pinkerton?” Uncle Travis mumbled, then grew silent, watching the river with a frown. He must sense some danger she did not yet have the skill to detect.
“The lady’s name is Eleanor. If you recall someone of that name, it would help our passenger out a great deal.”
Her uncle swung his gaze away from the river and settled it on her. She noticed his throat constrict, swallow hard.
“Eleanor?” Odd that his voice sounded unusually gruff...drawn tight in a way that was not common for him. “Girl got a last name?”
“Plum forgot to ask. Reckon it would help if she’s using her true name but we can’t be sure.” She shrugged. “Could be we’ll find her on the Belle.”
Uncle Patrick grunted.
“You see some trouble out there that I don’t, or you got a bellyache?”
He stood behind her, covering her hands with his strong, gnarled ones.
“Could be trouble,” he said. “We’d best ready ourselves for it, just in case.”
As hard as she stared at the water, she could see nothing but the calm surface. She longed for nothing more than the ability to see what a seasoned pilot like her uncle could in its murky depths.
*
