The River Nymph (10 page)

“Evenin’, Mrs. Raymond. I want you to meet someone very dear to me.” He could see her seething and suppressed a grin in spite
of Sky’s knowing look at him. He was over his head in river silt. Why was he happy that Deelie was jealous?

Delilah stopped short when the raven-haired woman turned around. Woman? The beautiful creature before her was practically
a child. Why, she could be no more than seventeen or eighteen! And she was breathtakingly lovely. Her golden skin and strong,
perfectly chiseled features indicated some Indian blood. The contrast with her vivid blue eyes was startling. She wore a traveling
suit of deep blue silk that matched those eyes. Masses of shiny black hair were piled atop her head in a smooth heavy coil
of braids. From her crown to the dainty blue slippers on her feet, she was a vision of exotic allure.

“Mr. Daniels, this is the final indignity! You, sir, are a monster, a rogue, a charlatan, a man of no principles but those
of whoremaster. If you expect for a single instant that I or my uncle will allow you to debauch this lovely child—”

Clint interrupted her tirade by throwing back his head and laughing. Then he held his sides and doubled over, tempting Delilah
to use one of those chops to the back of his neck that he had so ably demonstrated that morning. “Don’t you dare laugh at
me, you cad, you, you cradle-robber, you snake, you pedophile—”

When Clint saw her move closer and raise her hand, he recalled what a fast learner Delilah Raymond could be. He straightened
up and put out his hands, palms forward, to hold her at bay before she broke his neck. “You think Sky’s my mistress, don’t
you, Deelie?”

She jerked back her head, glaring at him. “What else am I supposed to think, pray tell?” When one of the roosters started
up the gangplank with a trunk, she turned and called out, “Put that down at once!”

The puzzled crewman looked from the irate Mrs. Raymond to the chuckling Mr. Daniels and had no idea whose orders to follow.
Daniels was the man, after all, but the female gambler was majority owner, or so the rumor on the riverfront went. He stood
still but did not drop the trunk. It might be politic to wait for this to be sorted out before he made a move either way.

Taking Delilah by one arm and motioning for Sky to follow, he walked a ways down the levee for some privacy. “Let’s talk without
an audience, all right?”

Delilah jerked her hand from his grip, although she was aware that she had just made a perfect spectacle of herself in front
of a goggle-eyed crew. Dozens of men aboard the
Nymph
had stopped working and were watching Daniels and “his women.” “All right, explain…if you can. You did intend to take
this child upriver aboard our boat, did you not?” She tapped one toe on the cobblestones.

“Oh, I will take her upriver with us. Mrs. Raymond, meet my sister, Sky Eyes. Her father is a leader among the Ehank-tonwon
Sioux, or Yanktons, as the whites misnamed them. She’s just completed her education here in the city and it’s time for her
to return home to her father’s people.”

Delilah was speechless.

Clint was delighted.

Sky Eyes took in the exchange with a tiny smile dancing in her blue eyes. But she was careful to keep her expression impassive,
waiting like the roustabout to see how this would play out.
My, my, big brother, you are full of surprises.

“Your…your sister? How do you expect me to believe that?” Delilah blurted out.

“It’s not complicated,” Clint replied calmly, knowing that his time with the Sioux was very complicated indeed. But he was
most certainly not going to share that information with the judgmental Mrs. Raymond. “I told you I lived upriver for some
years. The Ehanktonwon are my family. Sky’s father adopted me. I’m honored to be a member of their nation.”

“But she’s part white,” Delilah said, knowing at once how obvious and stupid the remark was. But if the Sioux woman took offense,
none was apparent.

“So is her father. That’s why he wanted his daughter to have an education in the world of whites so she could return and teach
his band how to survive. Talks Wise knows it’s only a matter of time until all the Indian nations will be forced to adapt
to the white man’s —civilization,— whether they want to or not. It’s that or die.” His mouth was now a grim slash, his eyes
gray and fathomless, cold as ice as he stared at Delilah.

Delilah remembered what the captain and Dawn Dubois had explained to her and her uncle and felt ashamed. It was clear that
she had made a horrible mistake. Yes, she admitted to herself, a jealous mistake. Swallowing her gorge, she turned to the
young woman. “Please accept my sincere apology, miss. I had no right to assume you were anything but what you are—a fine young
lady. I hope you will forgive my impertinence.”

“Handsomely done.” He turned to Sky. “She makes wonderful apologies…but then, with that temper of hers, Deelie has lots
of cause to practice.”

Now Sky did smile openly. She extended her hand to Delilah. “My brother can be a trial. Please forgive
his
impertinence,” she said impishly as she clasped the beautiful green-eyed brunette’s hand. “I hope we can become friends on
the voyage upriver.”

“That would be marvelous,” Delilah replied with a smile. “Please, let me show you to the cabins. They’re somewhat cramped,
I fear, but you may have your choice of any you wish. Then we’ll see to having your luggage brought aboard.”

As the two women approached the gangplank, chatting animatedly, Clint rubbed his chin and watched them nervously, none too
happy at the turn of events. “Whenever two females band together against a man, whatever hand he’s holdin’ isn’t worth a pair
of deuces.”

Horace bowed gracefully over Sky’s hand when Delilah made introductions in their sitting room that evening. “Your brother
told me his sister was a remarkable young lady, but he did not do you justice, my dear.”

“Watch out for this smooth-talking old rascal. Soon he’ll have you engaged in a game of five-card draw,” Delilah said.

Sky smiled at Horace. “Mr. Mathers, is it true that you taught Delilah such skill that she was able to win this boat from
my brother? He has always been incredibly good with cards.”

And with women
. Delilah fumed, remembering how he’d outsmarted her with the card trick that had cost her 49 percent of the
Nymph
.

Horace was nonplused that Delilah had confessed anything of her background to Clint’s foster sister. The bond between the
two women was remarkable. Even if it was only for the duration of the voyage, it would be wonderful if Delilah at last had
a friend besides Luellen. The kindly older cook was really more of a mother figure than a companion. After Sky left the boat
…well, mayhap they would visit Clint’s Sioux family when Delilah became Mrs. Daniels. “My niece exaggerates my modest
instruction. She has a natural mathematical mind.”

“What he means is she’s a calculatin’ woman,” Clint said, silhouetted in the sitting room door.

Delilah looked up at him from her perch on the settee. His tall frame filled the doorway. He still wore the expensively tailored
linen suit. The ruffled shirt, so common on the riverboats, usually made men appear effeminate. On him, it merely accentuated
his masculine magnetism. “If your definition of calculating means that I possess the skill to best you at poker without resorting
to palming cards—and that I drivea hard bargain in business—then, yes, I am a calculating woman indeed.”

“I do believe you’ve met your match, Lightning Hand,” Sky said gleefully.

Clint tried to think of one good reason he had not stayed in his cabin and drunk himself to sleep. For the life of him, he
couldn’t think of any. Except the obvious:He had to keep an eye on the two scheming females.

“Lightning Hand?” Delilah repeated, looking curiously at Clint. So much of his past remained shrouded in mystery. “Is that
a name given to you by the Sioux?”

Clint tried not to snarl. “I earned it,” was the terse reply. His eyes met Sky’s with the unspoken command that she should
let the rest remain buried with his past. He was relieved when she nodded slightly.

Sensing an undercurrent between Clint and his sister regarding his Indian name and his past, Horace leaped into the awkward
silence to prevent Delilah from pressing their associate further about a subject he did not wish to discuss. “Clint told me
earlier that your father had white blood. What of your mother, if you do not mind my asking.”

Sky smiled. “Many people, red and white, notice my eyes. That’s how I received my name. My mother was Swedish, an immigrant
to this country, en route to Oregon on a wagon train when the Pawnee attacked. She was rescued by a hunting party led by my
father. In time, they fell in love and married. She had golden hair, so took the name Sunrise. As a child I learned Swedish
from her and English from my father, even though I considered myself wholly Sioux. When I was twelve, she died in a cholera
epidemic. My father still mourns her loss.”

“I am so sorry if I raised painful memories, child,” Horace said as Delilah patted Sky’s hand.

Sky shook her head. “No, I take joy in the years we shared. She was a remarkable woman. If I can be half the blessing to our
people that she was, I will be grateful. Few men and women ever share the kind of bond my parentshad.” As she spoke, Sky glanced
from Delilah to Clint, then back to Horace.

“Sky, you’ll have your pick of men in Montana Territory, red or white. One will be right for you, just as Talks Wise was right
for Sunrise,” Clint said, diverting his matchmaking sister from further speculation about him and Delilah. Still, he couldn’t
resist taking a seat on the chair nearest Deelie. She smoothed her skirt and lifted it away, as if to avoid contamination.
The woman had been skittish ever since the incident with the buttons. Damn his nimble fingers for unlooping a virtual Pandora’s
box that night!

As the conversation moved to other topics, Delilah grew increasingly aware of the man sitting so close to her. She could smell
the faint scent of shaving soap, starched linen and male musk. Why did he have to be so infuriatingly attractive? Even the
swelling around his eye had almost vanished. How did the devil manage that? Before she could stop herself, the words tumbled
out. “Your eye’s almost healed, but you had quite a shiner this morning. You should share the remedy with the rest of the
crew.”

He winked at Sky. “Ehanktonwon magic. The two of you can share medicine-woman information.”
Lord help me, I
know you’ll share enough else to drive me to perdition before this
trip’s over.

Chapter Nine

Clint
had difficulty falling asleep. It was his first night aboard the
Nymph.
As soon as the last of the cargo was loaded, they would embark. But it was not excitement about the trip that kept him tossing
and turning. It was the picture of Deelie and Sky conspiring together in that sitting room earlier. Sky had given her new
friend several remedies from her Sioux people for everything from reducing swelling and healing bruises to setting broken
bones.

If his little sister had been so inclined, she would have made a wonderful physician. But what their band really needed was
someone well versed in the white man’s ways. That had been why she had willingly left her home and family to spend the past
seven years receiving the finest education his business enterprises enabled him to provide.

After being tutored by professors from Washington University in math, literature, geography and history, Sky had read law
for the past two years with one of the finest attorneys in St. Louis. When the time came for the Ehanktonwon people to give
up their land—and his foster father knew it would not be long—Sky could negotiate the best possible terms for them. The tribal
leaders, for a change, would know what they were signing.

He chuckled, remembering when she’d browbeaten him into taking her to old Gemmer, who now owned Jake Hawken’s gun shop. The
craftsman had customized a Winchester Yellow Boy for her. And the brat became a crack rifle shot. Now she was a woman of considerable
academic and practical knowledge.

His little sister’s education was not what was keeping him tossing and turning tonight. It was her acumen at reading people,
something her medicine-woman grandmother Little Foot had schooled her well in doing. She seemed to imagine Deelie was the
woman he should marry. Even if he ever did marry again—and he had no intentions of taking that risk—he would certainly choose
a more pliant wife than Delilah Raymond. Horace had glossed over her relationship with her first husband, only saying they
had been young and his family had refused to take her in when she was widowed.

“Maybe they got to know her and decided she was too much of a shrew,” he muttered to himself as he swung his long legs off
the narrow bed and sat up, cradling his head in his hands. Damn beds were made for midgets. His feet hung over the end. As
he started to pull on his breeches, he wondered idly how Horace slept; they were the same height. No use lying there staring
at the ceiling. Maybe he should return to the Bud and wake up Eva.

Somehow the idea held little appeal. They had parted coolly this morning. She knew he had to return Sky upriver and had accepted
that—until Delilah entered the picture. He’d kept the
Nymph
when he first won it to show off for his little sister. He’d planned to give her a ride home in high style on Red Riley’s
floating bordello—after redecorating to make it respectable, of course.

He’d never realized the cabins were so cramped, though. He felt claustrophobic in the small space. Perhaps some fresh night
air would tire him sufficiently so he could sleep without having nightmares about what deviltry Deelie and Sky were cooking
up. Or was it the pull of the past that tugged at him…the wild, unfettered life he had left behind when he’d brought
Sky downriver for her education? A wave of darkness swept over him whenever he thought of living Sioux and what it had cost
him. No. Never again.

Clint slipped on an old shirt and slid his gold cigar case into his pocket. He opened the door to let the cool, pungent air
of the Mississippi fill his nostrils. Stepping onto the deck, he walked toward the stern to better see the night sky. He fired
up an expensive cigar and took a deep, fragrant draw. Then, as he exhaled, he looked at the heavens. Even the Bud had turned
out its lights by now. There was nothing to impede a full view of the myriad of stars filling the inky void.

“Not as many stars as we’ll see upriver, but still splendid.”

Sky’s voice cut into his reverie. He turned and looked at her. She was dressed in a demure cotton wrapper that covered her
modestly from throat to slippered feet. She looked the perfect lady…just as Deelie did. “You’re up late. That pretty
little head too busy cooking up schemes for you to sleep?”

A slow smile lit her face. “Why, Lightning Hand, why would you accuse me of such a thing?” Before he could remonstrate, she
added, “I will never use your Ehanktonwon name in front of your white friends….”

“Thank you.”

“But you will have to explain it some day—to the woman you call Deelie. She hates the nickname, but then you know that. I
suppose that’s why you use it. To provoke her. Do you ever ask yourself why?”

“Do you ever ask yourself why you feel bound to stick that pretty nose into everyone else’s business?” he asked, placing one
finger on its tip with a teasing grin.

“I’m just naturally curious, but you haven’t answered my question. Why do you antagonize Delilah?”

“Maybe because she’s as touchy as a rattler with the piles. Ever think of that?”

Sky laughed, a rich, youthful sound. “What a crude thing to say about a lady, big brother.”

“I notice you don’t argue about whether or not the description fits her.”

“She’s antagonistic toward you because she’s defending herself from the way you make her feel,” Sky replied with the sangfroid
of a woman of the world.

“Yeah, like wanting to kill me—that what you mean?”

“No, like wanting to share your bed.”

His head snapped around and he choked on a lungful of cigar smoke. Coughing gave him time to gather his thoughts. “You’re
not supposed to think about things like that until you’re older.”

She shook her head patiently. “Lightning Hand, you know among our people I would already be married with several children
by now. I know about how men and women become attracted to each other.”

“Somehow I doubt they teach that in school or law offices.”

“You are evading the issue, which is—”

He interrupted gruffly. “You sound like a lawyer.”

Sky made a mock curtsey. “Why, thank you, sir. I do believe that was the intent when I came here to study.”

“Well, you didn’t study matchmaking, so can we discuss something besides Mrs. Raymond?”

Her expression changed from playful to serious. “Are you certain it’s wise for you to return?”

He took another long drag on the cigar and considered. “You mean, will I stay and revert to what I was?”

“What you were,” she replied gently, placing one hand on his arm and looking into his harshly set face, “was a man driven
mad with grief. You’ve built a good life here. You could send me home with Mr. Mathers and the captain. They’ll see me safely
there.”

“No. I need to do this, Sky.” There was finality in his voice.

Sky knew the subject was closed. Giving him a sisterly pat on the back, she smiled. “I didn’t expect you would change your
mind. At least you’ll have Mrs. Raymond to divert your wits…and other things.”

He snorted and threw his cigar into the water.

Delilah could feel the hum. Below her their mate, Mr. Iversen, directed the last of the cargo loading. Roustabouts brought
the crates up the gangplank and lashed them in place on the main deck under his stoic Norwegian gaze. Men swore and sweated
in the hot spring sunlight. The stench of a hide and tallow factory wafted from up the hill, blendingwith the musky aroma
of rotted driftwood and other offal disgorged on the levee.

Delilah had never experienced a more beautiful scene.

The river, swift and still deadly, had slowed enough for the
Nymph
to begin its long run. Tomorrow at dawn. She could feel the excitement dancing in the humid air and breathed deeply.

“Happy, child?” Horace asked as he looked down from their vantage point. He casually held the Colt revolving rifle in his
right hand. Ever since Riley’s men had attempted to sabotage their venture, he had assumed charge of the men hired to guard
the cargo.

“I’ve never been this happy. We’re off for Montana Territory to make our fortune, Uncle. We’ll be respectable people of business—and
think of the adventures we’ll have!”

“Be mindful of the dangers we’ll encounter. The captain’s stories about river pirates, angry Indians, tornadoes and storms
were not tales spun for our amusement. They were cautionary.”

“I know, but if I could escape Red Riley’s men, I can handle anything the Big Muddy throws at me,” she replied, undaunted.

“As I seem to recall, for all your nimble actions, without Clint’s help you would not have survived Riley’s men,” he said,
dryly. In truth, when he’d heard the full story, he had been sick to think of how it could have ended if not for Daniels and
his spy system on the riverfront.

Delilah bit her lip to keep from snapping at him. Between him and Sky she was driven to distraction. The two of them used
every opportunity to play matchmaker.
A match made in
hell.
“I will not allow thoughts of Red Riley or Clinton Daniels to ruin this wonderful day.”

Horace put up his hand in surrender. “As you wish, my dear, but we do have dinner this evening with Captain Dubois…and
our business partner Clint. We embark in the morning and I assume you will wish to have your say aboutour itinerary since
you insisted on performing the clerking duties.”

“I want to tally every piece of merchandise loaded and unloaded at every stop, not trust strangers…or Mr. Daniels,”
she said.

Horace sighed patiently. “Clint’s trustworthiness aside, we are operating on a very strict budget with little to spare for
extra crew—the fact of which you have reminded both of us. Repeatedly.”

“I’ve merely been frugal. After this voyage I want to make enough profit to pay off our partner and be sole proprietors of
the
Nymph.
”

Horace made no reply, hoping that an utterly different sort of partnership would be in place between his niece and Clint before
the end of the voyage.

The dining hall smelled of fresh lumber and paint. The cabins on the boiler deck had interior doors, allowing owners, officers
and passengers indoor access to the dining hall for meals. A table at the far end accommodated the second pilot, Mr. Hagadorn,
the mate, Mr. Iversen, and the first and second engineers, Belson and Kline.

At the opposite end of the room, the captain’s table held Jacques Dubois, Clint, Sky, Horace and Delilah. While Beth and Sadie,
Mrs. Colter’s assistants, served the officers, Luellen and Todd placed steaming bowls of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and
creamed peas in front of the owners, captain and their lone passenger. Delilah sat directly across from Clint in spite of
her uncle and Sky’s efforts to place them next to each other.

They had business to discuss and she could not afford the distraction of having him beside her, in his fancy ruffled shirt
and dark blue suit. The man had more clothes than Beau Brummell, she thought crossly. He was freshly shaved. The golden stubble
had been scraped away and his long, straight hair was still damp from his bath.

In spite of herself, she imagined the scent of soap and man that she’d smelled when he pulled her into his embrace that night.
The night she’d almost permitted him to undress her in public, she reminded herself indignantly, returning her attention to
the discussion of their stop in Hermann, where they would drop off farm implements and possibly take on passengers bound for
the gold fields.

Before he took a sip from his glass of wine, Clint raised it in a silent salute to Delilah. Since the excitement of embarking
had seized hold of her, she had forsaken her widow’s weeds. Perhaps his answer to the challenge of her being buttoned up like
a preacher’s wife had convinced her it was a bad idea. He damned himself for the interlude but knew if offered the opportunity
again, he would probably do the same thing.

And, oh, was she tempting tonight, in a pale gold silk gown that revealed just the smallest hint of the treasures he had felt
the night he’d unlooped those buttons. Her hair, held up by jeweled combs, curled softly around her face. A simple cameo on
a deep gold velvet band encircled her slender throat. The lanterns cast a warm glow on her silky skin and he smiled, noting
that in spite of her parasols, a faint tracery of freckles dotted her nose. Soon the reflection of sun on the water would
bring out more of them. She would look adorable—if a shrew could ever be considered adorable…

“We will stop at Pining’s place for wood, about midday. Prices are good there and we can take on enough to reach our first
night’s berth just above St. Charles,” the captain said.

“It seems a pity that’s as far as we can go in a whole day,” Delilah responded.

“We have to make wood stops twice a day and we’ll moor up every night,” Clint interjected. “Remember, Captain Dubois has never
lost a boat. Traveling at boiler-bustin’ speeds against fast currents and night runnin’ have littered the Missouri with wrecks.
No profit in that.”

The way he pronounced
Missouri
as Missourah irritated Delilah. But not half so much as the way he continued totaunt her with subtle memories of the night
outside her cabin.

How could she have been so stupid? As if reading her mind, he paused and took another sip of wine, then raised his glass.

“Here’s to a profitable partnership, Mrs. Raymond.”

“Here, here,” Horace seconded.

Delilah could do nothing but join in the toast with the others, even though she was acutely aware of Clint’s mocking gaze
directed at her.

“The river is high because of spring rain up north, but on our return, the summer snow melt will ease us down in excellent
time,” Dubois said. He sensed the undercurrent between his employers. He had been friends with Daniels for many years and
had come to like the lady and her uncle. Although Horace Mathers and Clint appeared most cordial, Mrs. Raymond and Clint fenced
verbally every time he overheard them.

Several times during dinner Mr. Mathers or Miss Sky jumped in to smooth things over. It was a puzzling development. Considering
all the difficulty with Red Riley and gathering a crew, the captain already had enough to worry about. The business partners
would have to work out their own accord. He accepted a second helping from the heaping platter of fresh chicken Todd offered.
It wasn’t New Orleans cuisine, but he was happy for the distraction of such excellent food.