Authors: Patricia Hagan
"Over there"—he pointed again—"you can see some of his steamers, which operate between here and Montgomery. The trip takes two days, and the boat stops about two hundred times to load and unload passengers, grain, flour, meats, lumber, liquors, tobacco, cotton, and corn. Every possible sort of household item and luxury finds its way upriver to consumers."
"Is my father here somewhere?" Raven glanced around uneasily. She did not want to meet him unexpectedly; she wanted time to prepare herself.
"No. As I told you, he's sick at his plantation upriver. But even if he weren't, he wouldn't be here. I can't remember the last time Ned came to Mobile. He's got people to run things here, and he'd rather devote his time to the racking horses."
"Racking horses." Raven sniffed with disdain. "A horse is a horse, but he thinks he has found something special."
"When you see them, you might think so too," Steve remarked fondly. "Especially Starfire."
"Starfire?"
"Your father's horse. I told you about him, how no one has ever been able to ride him except your father. He's the most magnificent animal I've ever seen. And he doesn't throw him when somebody whistles," he added with a grin.
Raven ignored him. She was getting good at that, she realized, lifting her chin and turning her head in dismissal of his sarcasm. "He's still just a horse," she muttered under her breath. "I could probably ride him if I wanted to, which I don't."
The town lay at the head of an open bay and ran along the edge of the water north and south. The streets were long and broad, paved with oyster shells. The main avenue—Government Street—was lined with shops offering the latest goods from New York, London, and Paris.
Steve could see Raven was impressed, but not overly so. "Seems to me that a girl raised like you were would be excited about having all this handed to her."
She blinked uncertainly.
"All this," he repeated with an exasperated wave of his hand. "With Ned's money, you can buy anything you want."
"His
money. Not mine."
It could be hers, Steve thought, if she'd quit being so stubborn, but he was tired of arguing, glad his job would soon be over.
He reined up and dismounted. Raven did the same. After securing their horses to a hitching post, he led the way to the door of a shop with a sign above that proclaimed BONHEUR BOUTIQUE. Motioning for Raven to precede him, he said, "I don't speak French, but I happen to know the sign means
Happiness Shop.
We're about to find out if that's true—thanks to your father's money."
Reluctantly, shyly, Raven stepped inside. The air was sweet with the smell of perfume, and as she glanced around she knew she had never been anywhere so elegant. She sank to her ankles in the thick purple rug and thought the walls, covered in a paper of pink and peach-colored roses, looked like a garden that stretched forever. There were tufted white velvet chairs and settees and ornate vases and flowers and more flowers.
Steve stood back and watched, pleased by her reaction. She would find out soon enough how money could open a lot of doors, though he personally had never worried about having any. As long as he had a roof over his head when it was raining, food in his belly when he was hungry, a good horse to take him where he wanted to go, and a firm-feeling woman when he had a yen, he needed nothing else—except, he was struck with a sharp pang to admit, there were times when he wished he had roots. Once Ned was gone, he knew that longing would only intensify.
A tiny silver bell above the door had tinkled when they entered, and a few seconds later the lace curtain at the back of the shop parted and a woman appeared. She wore a blue taffeta gown, and her dark hair was pulled back in a snood. Little round glasses perched on the end of her pointed nose. Her expression, at first, was pleasant, but, seeing Raven, her hand fluttered to her throat and she said, "I believe you are in the wrong shop."
"I don't think so." Steve gave her a lazy smile. Removing his hat, he walked over to settle on one of the pink velvet settees. "We're here to buy some happiness—like your sign says. And I'd like for you to fix this little lady up with a few nice gowns."
"Uh—" The woman hesitated to say it but finally blurted out, "Sir, this is a very expensive shop."
"Money is no object."
The woman looked as if she might faint.
Raven turned to Steve and said, "Let's go."
"Not till you get your clothes." He frowned at the woman. "Maybe we'd better talk to the owner."
Stiffly, she informed him, "I
am
the owner—Madame Bonet—and I assure you, sir, that I have nothing that the young"—she nearly choked on the word—
"lady
would be interested in."
"Well, you never can tell. Bring out what you've got, and we'll decide."
"But you don't understand, monsieur. We don't cater to"—she lowered her voice to a scornful whisper—"
quadroons. I
will appreciate your taking your business elsewhere."
"She's not a quadroon. And I don't think you know whose money we're spending here. Does the name Ned Ralston mean anything to you?"
"Of course," she said uneasily. "He owns this building."
"That's what I thought. Now will you please do as I ask, or would you like Mr. Ralston to come in so you can refuse him personally?"
She paled. "That won't be necessary. I'll be glad to help you." She fled back through the curtains.
Raven started to protest again, but Steve waved her to silence. "She'll break her neck serving you now, so relax."
"But what did she call me? What is a quadroon?"
"A woman of color. One quarter Negro. Your skin is darker than most, and she made a mistake. So you see?" He winked. "I told you no one would guess you're half Indian."
"But—"
"Relax. I'm going to go have a beer or two, and when I come back I'm sure
I
won't even know who you are."
And when he returned a few hours later, he almost didn't.
Raven was standing in the middle of the pink and white room but easily outshone the magnificent surroundings. Her hair, washed and styled in ringlets by a coiffeur hastily summoned by Madame Bonet, shone like the raven's wing for which she was named. She was wearing a
pardessus
—a jacket—of green silk taffeta over a separate skirt. A satin ribbon of the same color adorned the jacket and the flounce of the skirt. The upper arms were embellished with a false cuff of net with fringe, and she was carrying a lace scarf and a parasol to match the fabric and lace edging of her costume.
"Do you like it, monsieur?" Madame Bonet rushed forward to dust away a tiny piece of lint from Raven's skirt. "The vivid green color is the latest from Paris and popular because of the recent invention of aniline dyes.
"Mademoiselle found several things she liked," she hastened to tell him. "There are a few alterations to be made, but I have two of my best girls working on them now."
"Have everything finished and delivered to the hotel by tonight and send the bill to Mr. Ralston. Here's a deposit." He threw down some bills.
Raven had already left the shop, wanting to enjoy the beautiful blue and gold day dressed in such a fine outfit.
He was about to follow after her when Madame Bonet touched his sleeve and said, with a faintly conspiring smile, "I am sorry I misunderstood when you first brought the lady in, monsieur. Mr., Ralston has good taste. He has the ability to see the rose among the thorns. Feel free to bring his mistresses to my shop anytime."
Steve tipped his hat and grinned. "Oh, she's not his mistress, she's his daughter. But I'll be glad to give him your message."
This time, Madame Bonet did swoon with shock.
And Steve just continued on his way.
Chapter 10
Raven was determined not to let her excitement show, but it was hard. After all, she had never owned more than one dress at a time in her life, much less even dreamed of wearing such creations as the ones from Bonheur Boutique. And, of course, she'd never had her hair styled either.
But even more delights were in store.
Her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw her hotel room. The bed was huge, with a covering stretched above it on poles like a giant flattened tepee but made not of animal skin but a pretty fabric as soft as the gown she had on, in a shade of pink to match the cloth covering the bed.
Slowly, she walked about to marvel over the table draped in dainty ruffles of white lace with a mirror edged in gold hanging above. One wall was nearly covered by a huge piece of furniture she assumed was supposed to be used for hanging clothes, although she wondered who would ever have enough to fill it.
There were rugs on the floor, and fresh flowers sitting on the washstand next to the pitcher and bowl. Two large windows looked out on the street below. In the distance, she could see the waterfront, with large ships anchored offshore and smaller ones at the docks.
It was a busy place, with people scurrying about, and Raven felt a thrill to be a part of it—if only for a little while. Soon she would go back to Texas, then on to Mexico, but while she was here she wanted to see and do everything, for it was a world she could visit... if not embrace.
She found herself wondering about the kind of life she might have lived had her father not abandoned her. While she had not yet seen his plantation, she was sure she would prefer it to the city. There would be horses and wide-open spaces, which was all she needed to make her happy. Fancy gowns and fancy restaurants had their place, but she could not imagine going about dressed every day in finery and spending her time sewing or reading poetry and doing other feminine things—like riding a horse sideways; she wrinkled her nose in disgust to imagine that. She'd seen women riding that way and thought it ridiculous.
Looking down at the ladies walking along the boardwalk, she knew beyond doubt that, if left to their own resources in the wilderness, they could not survive. Not a one of them, she wagered, could defend herself. In the face of danger, they would scream or faint or do both. And certainly they did not know how to make a rabbit snare or carve fishhooks and make fishing lines.
Feeling smug, she dropped the lace curtains and turned to glance again around the room. She would enjoy sleeping in the big soft bed, if only for a night. Steve had said they would get an early start in the morning and hope to arrive at Halcyon by midday. She would then meet her father and, as politely as possible, hear what he had to say. Then, after resting a day, she would put on her scout uniform, which was tucked away in her saddlebag, leap on Diablo, and ride away to leave her father and the life she might have had behind.
Putting Steve out of her mind, however, was going to take some doing.
He had left her in the hotel lobby, saying someone else could see her to her room because he was going to get a bath and a shave. He had suggested she rest a spell, because he was taking her out for a nice dinner. "At one of those places we couldn't go to before," he had added with a wink.
Raven often wondered what he would think if he knew the effect he had on her in those light, teasing moments. Sometimes she had to turn away, lest tremble at his nearness.
A knock on the door tore her from reverie. She hurried to answer. Then, blinking at the stranger standing there, she whispered uncertainly, "Steve?"
He was wearing a new outfit—a blue silk shirt with a string tie, navy blue coat, matching trousers, and a new felt hat, which he removed in a sweeping gesture. "I'm afraid so. I should apologize for letting all the trail dust cake up and make me look like a field hand."
"No, no. You always looked fine, really." She fell silent, embarrassed to be so ill at ease, but he was more handsome than ever, and the warm ripple quickly became a hot wave that rolled from her head to her toes. "You didn't have to go to so much trouble."
"Of course I did, because I wanted to take you out for a nice evening." He held out his arm to her. "Ready?"
Hoping her hand would not start shaking, she slipped it in the crook of his arm and nodded past the nervous lump in her throat.
* * *
All eyes were upon them as they entered the hotel dining room, and Raven tensed. "I knew it. They can tell I'm a half-breed and they don't want me here."