Far From Home (30 page)

Kitty looked rather sheepish. ‘Ted says it is – practically, anyway.’

‘Ted!’

Kitty nodded. ‘We’ve talked,’ she said. ‘And he’s convinced that they’ll find gold if they sink another shaft.’ She pursed her lips and her cheeks flushed. ‘I quite fancy him, miss,’ she admitted. ‘And he feels ’same about me. We’re from ’similar background, you see. We understand each other, though I’ve told him I don’t approve of him taking Mr Newmarch’s name.’

Georgiana was stunned into silence as Kitty told of how she and Ted had talked, and he’d outlined his plans to make something of his life which had begun to take shape after he had met Wilhelm Dreumel.

‘Mr Dreumel trusts him, Miss Georgiana, and Ted says he won’t ever let him down, and,’ she blushed even more, ‘he says, Ted I mean, that if he strikes it rich, then he wants to marry me.’

‘And is that what you want, Kitty?’ Georgiana asked quietly. ‘Riches are not everything!’

‘I know that, miss,’ Kitty said cheerfully. ‘But I’ll probably marry him anyway. That was my other plan. He needs a good woman to help him settle down.’

Lake said I was a good woman, Georgiana reflected when she was alone. But he didn’t mean it in the same sense as Kitty does. There would be no possibility of settling down with Lake. Not ever. She swallowed a lump in her throat. I might as well get used to that right now. But there is nothing to stop me loving him, and I feel that I do, so I must be content with that.

They went shopping for suitable clothes, plain skirts and cotton shirts and divided skirts for riding. ‘You will have to ride, Kitty. I will try to buy Hetty and we must get a suitable mount for you,’ Georgiana said.

Kitty put her hand to her mouth in dismay, not only at having to ride a horse alone but also because she knew that her wages wouldn’t stretch to buying one.

‘You can pay me back when we are rich,’ Georgiana said with a smile, ‘and if we don’t get rich I’ll give it to you as a wedding present!’

Along with the belongings they didn’t need, Georgiana left a note with the desk clerk for Wilhelm Dreumel, in case he should travel to New York and by some chance they missed him. She wrote that they were travelling back to Dreumel’s Creek, put in the date and said that she expected it would take them approximately seven days to travel. She then wrote a note to the Charlesworths telling them she was going away, but not saying where.

Georgiana consulted the map which Charlesworth had orginally given to her. ‘It’s not completely accurate, Kitty. I don’t think that Mr Charlesworth had ever travelled there before. Perhaps this is just a sketch which Mr Dreumel had given him to show where the mine was. What we’ll do,’ she said, ‘is travel as last time to No-Name, and then ask Dekan or Horse to put us on the right mountain track. Lake won’t be there,’ she added. ‘He’s gone up country.’

‘I shall feel scared, miss,’ Kitty admitted. ‘Specially going through the forests. Suppose we meet up with wolves again?’

‘A tinderbox!’ Georgiana exclaimed suddenly. ‘That’s what we need. And a box of lucifers. We shall have to light a fire at some stage. And we’ll try not to worry about wolves,’ she stated firmly. ‘Lake said they don’t usually attack.’

Two days later they were ready. Their berths were reserved on the packet boats to Trenton and Philadelphia, the weather was fine and hot and Georgiana looked forward to the journey and the cool breezes on the canal.

‘Goodbye, New York,’ Kitty cried excitedly as they departed from the Marius. ‘You’re a splendid city, apart from the pigs, but we’re off to the wilderness to find our fortune!’

The boat on which they had booked to travel had unexpectedly been withdrawn, and the smaller replacement boat was packed with travellers. The upper berths which were reserved for ladies only were crowded, and many of the ladies were complaining vociferously that someone else had taken their places.

The berths themselves were narrow and hidden behind thin flowered curtains which were barely wide enough to provide privacy for the occupants. ‘Here, Miss Georgiana.’ Kitty had rushed towards two vacant bunks, throwing her shawl and bonnet on the lower one to reserve it, and climbing into the top one she looked defiantly down at a young woman who had raced her to it.

‘This doesn’t bode well, Kitty,’ Georgiana murmured. ‘This is a very old boat!’

‘Never mind, miss,’ Kitty reassured her. ‘As long as it’s watertight.’

They had been under way no more than an hour when the blue sky darkened, a clap of thunder startled them and the rain pelted down, causing them to scurry from the deck and shelter within the ladies’ cabin. Other women did the same and they sat on their bunks or stood and chatted to one another until the rain began to drip through the roof, landing on the top bunks and wetting the blankets.

There was nothing to do during the day. It was impossible even to read in the dim light, and the crowd of women sitting in the small cabin made it hot and airless. Many of them turned pale and some dashed out onto the wet deck to relieve themselves of the lunch which they had only recently eaten.

No-one slept very much that night, for the little boat pitched unsteadily. Georgiana held tightly to the mattress, fearing if she didn’t she would be flung out onto the floor.

The next morning the weather was fine and dry and the female passengers, having walked the deck and breathed in the fresh air, became more companionable. They asked Georgiana and Kitty a dozen questions at a time – where they hailed from, where they were going and which was their husband or young man.

‘They’re meeting us,’ Kitty answered for Georgiana and herself. ‘And we’re from England, though we’ve lived in New York.’

Georgiana hid a smile as Kitty airily discussed her journeyings in America by boat, coach and horse, across canals and mountains, as if she was a most experienced wayfarer.

They changed boats in Trenton but were a day late arriving in Harrisburg and, although the coach was waiting, they elected to stay overnight in an hotel in order to sleep, for they were both very tired. They caught the mail coach to Duquesne the next morning, and it, like the former vehicle on which they had travelled, rattled and crashed along the rough road, the driver cracking his whip and urging on the horses as if the devil himself was after them. The passengers were shaken and jostled into each other, the coach was filled with dust and tobacco fumes and the male passengers chewed and spat, until Georgiana was at last forced to complain.

‘Beg pardon, ma’am.’ One of the men lifted his hat, which had been fixed firmly on his head since he had boarded the coach. ‘I reckon you’re English?’

‘We are,’ Georgiana assented.

‘They’re English,’ another passenger informed the others as if they hadn’t heard.

‘English!’

‘From England!’ They nodded at one another and all turned their eyes on Georgiana and Kitty, nodding and smiling and discussing them for another hour or so, until the driver drew to a halt by a roadside shack to water his horses, and the passengers got down to stretch their limbs and buy a few comforts before the final part of the journey.

‘All change for Duquesne!’ Georgiana was awakened from an uneasy doze and stumbled out of the coach with an aching body.

‘I’ll never walk again!’ Kitty said and promptly sat on the ground. ‘I used to think when I was just a little bairn that I’d like to be a lady and travel in a carriage. But give me my two legs and a good pair of boots any time.’

Georgiana groaned in agreement. ‘Let’s find a porter for our luggage and somewhere to stay. Then we’ll go and see the wheelwright about Hetty and another horse. We’ll set off early tomorrow,’ she said, ‘and not risk travelling in the dark.’

‘But we’d better get some canvas for a tent, miss,’ Kitty said practically. ‘Just in case!’

The wheelwright looked up as Georgiana knocked on the open door of his workshop. ‘Well, you’m come back! I don’t know what you done with old Henry but I ain’t been able to do a darned thing with her since she came home.’ He spat a stream of yellow spittle across the dirt floor. ‘Not a darned thing.’

‘Can I see her?’ Georgiana asked.

‘Reckon so. Do you want to hire her agin, cos nobody else will have her?’

Georgiana glanced at Kitty. Perhaps he might be willing to sell Hetty for a reasonable charge if he wasn’t able to hire her out. ‘What’s the matter with her? She hasn’t gone lame or been wounded in some way?’

‘Nope.’ He led them across the yard. ‘I reckoned at first she had the ’fluenza when she was off her food. I was ready for putting her down, but she weren’t sweating and she’d no cough and her coat looked good.’ He put his fingers to his lips and then, taking them out, added, ‘Reckon she was frettin’, just like she did when my old ma died.’

He put his fingers to his lips again and whistled. Then he whistled again and they heard the slow clip-clop of hooves at the back of the building. Hetty plodded around the corner. Her head was bent and she came as if reluctantly to the call.

‘Buck up, old gal,’ the wheelwright hailed her. ‘Come and see the pretty lady.’

‘Hetty!’ Georgiana called. ‘Hetty, come on!’

The mare lifted her head at Georgiana’s voice. She snorted and bobbed her head up and down, then with a whinny picked up her feet and trotted towards them. Georgiana put out her hand to greet her, but Hetty nudged it out of the way and butted her on the shoulder.

‘Guess she’s pleased to see you, lady.’ The wheelwright chewed on a wad of tobacco and Kitty watched him warily. ‘She’s been missing you, I reckon.’

‘And I’ve missed her.’ Georgiana stroked Hetty’s neck. ‘Will you sell her to me?’

‘Reckon I’ll have to,’ he said. ‘She ain’t no use to me moping around the way she does.’

‘Have you another horse to sell? We need one for my companion.’

The man sized up Kitty. ‘I ain’t a horse dealer, lady. Just keep one or two for hire, but I’ll git you one for tomorrow. I’ll do a deal with you. Buy Henry from me and I’ll throw in the saddle and bridle, and git you a nice little mare for the young gal here.’

‘Something quiet,’ Kitty said. ‘And steady!’

He nodded. ‘You taking baggage?’

‘Erm – yes,’ Georgiana said. ‘Of course – we’ll need packs!’

‘I’ll find you a packhorse or a mule.’ He eyed her narrowly. ‘Travelling far?’

‘Just like last time,’ she said brightly. ‘No distance at all.’

The next morning they arrived back at the wheelwright’s after a good supper and a night’s rest, and found Hetty looking over the fence, waiting for them. She was saddled up and ready. They stowed their belongings into packs, which the wheelwright lifted onto a sturdy mule.

Kitty was introduced to her mount, a handsome chestnut mare. ‘A Missouri Fox Trotter,’ the wheelwright pronounced. ‘That’s what she is. Got a touch of Spanish, and a bit of Morgan, so she’ll ride well, little lady. No need to be feared of her.’

‘No!’ Kitty said in a timid voice. ‘I’m not.’ She patted the horse on the nose and gave her a sugar lump which she’d taken from the breakfast table. She took hold of the reins, put her foot in the stirrup iron and hoisted herself up. ‘Thank you, she’s lovely.’

Georgiana settled the payment. ‘Thank you for your help,’ she said to the wheelwright as she mounted Hetty. ‘It is very much appreciated.’

He nodded. ‘You’re welcome, lady. Where do I say you’re heading fer if anybody asks?’

‘No-one will ask,’ she said. ‘But we’re going to No-Name.’

‘Good luck, then.’ He waved a hand in farewell and stood by the gate to watch them.

‘Are you ready, Kitty?’ she asked and Kitty said nervously that she was as ready as she would ever be. They looked along the long dusty track and up towards the mountain range which lay beyond.

Georgiana took a deep breath. ‘Come on then,’ she said. ‘Let’s be on our way.’

‘I said, get bailing, mister,’ Cap’n Mac repeated. ‘Otherwise we’ll end up in this ole river and I couldn’t begin to tell you what’s floating in there.’

‘But,’ Edward began heatedly, ‘that fellow’s robbed me! I don’t have any more money. I have to tell the police . . .’ His voice faded away as he realized the consequences of doing that. The police would no doubt ask why he was in a hurry to leave New Orleans at such an early hour. And, he thought, it wouldn’t surprise me if they were in the pay of Rodriguez. A man like him knows many people.

Reluctantly he picked up a bucket and started to bail. I’ve been snared, he thought. Duped. This old tub wasn’t going anywhere! Where’s the crew? Where are the other passengers? He glanced around at the peeling paintwork, the creaking paddles without a safety guard, the blackened smoking chimney. Though I daresay there might be a few blackguards who use this way out when they’re in a hurry.

He straightened his back. Robert Allen’s trousers and jacket, which he was wearing, were of thin cotton and he was soaked through to his skin. The water swilling around his feet was thick and slimy and the rain was pouring down in torrents. ‘How long before it stops?’ he called to Cap’n Mac, and wondered if that was his real name and title. ‘The rain, I mean.’

The man shrugged. ‘Tomorrow! Maybe the day after. Who knows?’ The rain was running down his face but he didn’t seem to notice.

‘Where did you say you were going?’ Edward shouted.

He gave a malevolent grin. ‘I didn’t.’

Edward bent again to the bailing and started to think furiously. So what does he intend to do with me? His crony back there has my money. Nobody knows I’m here on this old tub. He’s probably thinking of tipping me overboard as soon as we’re out of sight of anybody on the bank!

The banks were lower here and they were passing small shanty settlements with dilapidated shacks, a goat or cow tied up outside most of them. Emaciated dogs roamed free and barked at their passage. He guessed that when the river ran high the dwellings would be flooded.

He looked down into the slow muddy water of the Mississippi. A yellow foaming scum gathered around the floating logs and branches which were drifting downstream, and he shuddered at the thought of the disease which awaited anyone unlucky enough to fall in.

‘Jo! Jo! Get your lazy butt up here.’