Mischief and Magnolias (28 page)

She let herself into the house through the service room attached to the kitchen, satisfied no one had seen her mad dash across the yard. Despite the late hour, she still needed to be careful. Private Connors now slept in the servants' quarters she had previously occupied. She stepped into the kitchen.

“Shae! What are you up to?”

Shaelyn jumped, clutching the uniform closer to her chest, and squelched the scream of surprise as she came face to face with her mother. She hadn't expected anyone else to be awake, least of all Brenna.

Two glasses of milk resided on a tray beside two clean plates, the glass dome covering the cake platter resting beside it as Brenna sliced into the cake.

“Nothing, Mama.”

A smile played at the corners of Brenna's mouth and her eyes focused on the uniform in her hands. “Nothing?” she asked, “Now, why don't I believe you?”

“They're planning to search for the
Sweet Sassy
,” she whispered, her heart still thumping in her chest.

“I know.” Such wisdom glowed from Brenna's face, Shaelyn sucked in her breath, but the question in her mother's eyes remained unasked.

“I'm going with him, Mama. I can't afford to lose my last steamer, but more importantly, I won't lose him.”

“And does he know you're going with him?”

“Not exactly. He said it wouldn't be wise.”

“But you don't agree with him.”

“No, I don't. I…” She shrugged, unable to explain further.

Slowly, Brenna nodded as she transferred the sweet, rich cake from the platter to one of the small plates then licked the icing from her thumb. “You love him.”

“Yes, I love him.”

Brenna smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling in the glow of lantern light. She gestured to the uniform with the knife she held in her hand and then proceeded to cut another slice of cake and transfer it to the plate. “So you plan on…what? Following him? Sneaking aboard the
Lady Shae
?”

“Yes.”

The smile on her mother's face brightened even more, if that were possible. She said nothing as she put down her knife, walked into the pantry, and pulled her own uniform from hiding. “I'm going with you.”

“Oh, Mama, you can't. It's too dangerous.”

“Too dangerous for me, but not for you?” She shook her head and a steely determination darkened Brenna's eyes. Shaelyn hadn't seen that gleam of purpose and resolve in her mother in a very long time. “Why? Because I'm older? I'm fragile?” She returned the uniform back to the pantry.

“No, Mama, it isn't—”

“Why?” Brenna stood before her, her head held high, demanding an answer. She raised one eyebrow. “Just as you cannot let Remy go, I cannot lose my last chance either. Jock is captaining the
Lady Shae
,” her voice cracked and lowered to a whisper, “and I want to be with him.”

What could she say? What argument could she give her mother that couldn't be turned right back on herself? Shaelyn reached out and grabbed her mother's hand. “We are a pair, aren't we? Now all we need is a plan. You wouldn't happen to have one, would you?”

The grin on Brenna's face slowly turned downward. “I hadn't thought that far ahead, but you're a smart, resourceful girl. I was hoping you would have a plan.” She grabbed Shaelyn's uniform and tucked it away in the pantry with her own, then picked up the tray loaded with her midnight snack and headed for the swinging door. “By the way, Jock doesn't know I plan to be on the
Lady Shae
, at least not until we are well under way. I would appreciate it if you didn't say anything to him.” A conspiratorial grin tilted the corners of her mouth. “And I won't say anything to your husband.” With that, she left the room, balancing the tray in her hands.

Shaelyn stared at the door, a bit unnerved, not only because of what she planned to do, but because her mother—her mother!—planned on doing the same.

She grinned as she made her way back up to her bedroom and crawled into bed beside her sleeping husband. She should have remembered Brenna Cavanaugh was made of sterner stuff than what she'd shown the world in the past two years.

• • •

“I'll see you when I get back.”

Remy leaned down and kissed her, his mouth sliding over hers in such a way, she felt the tingle down to her toes. Desire flared, hot and tumultuous, making her senses come alive beneath the touch of his lips.

He broke the kiss and took a step back, studying her, then caressed the side of her face, the softness of his eyes reaching deep into her soul.

Does he know what I plan? Does he suspect?

She didn't think she gave anything away, but she'd been careful not to show any emotion other than sadness at his departure. Remy was not a stupid man, though.

“Be safe,” she whispered.

He pulled her to him and dropped one last kiss on her lips, seemingly reluctant to leave. After a moment, he let her go.

Shaelyn stood on the top of the stairs at the front of the house as he, accompanied by Jock and Captain Bonaventure, made his way down the steps to where his horse, and the buggy the other men were taking, waited. She was relieved to see that Jezebel wasn't harnessed to the little buggy. That would have put a crimp in her plans for certain.

He tucked his cane into the slot beside his rifle on his saddle and then mounted. He stared at Shaelyn for the longest time, as if memorizing her face, saluted, then nudged his horse.

Shaelyn watched him ride away, her heart thundering in her chest. An overwhelming sadness filled her, battling with the excitement coursing through her veins. She watched until he turned south at the end of the drive, toward Silver Street, the buggy with Jock and Captain Bonaventure following closely behind him.

She took a deep breath to slow her racing heart and turned to her mother. She grasped Brenna's hand in her own. “Are you ready?”

Her mother grinned, a blush turning her cheeks rosy. She'd received her own kiss from Jock as he said goodbye. “Oh, yes.” No fear colored her voice as they entered the house, only anticipation.

A short time later, Shaelyn left her room and strode down the hall to her mother's, her boots clumping on the marble floor. Dressed in a private's uniform, cap perched on her head, she knew she wouldn't bear close inspection…she had too many curves, which were somehow enhanced by the blue clothing, but it would have to do. Belatedly, she realized she should have wrapped her breasts to flatten them against her chest, but she was afraid time would fly too quickly and she'd miss her chance to be aboard the
Lady Shae
when she sailed. “Hurry, Mama! I don't want the
Lady Shae
to leave without us.”

She knocked on her mother's door, but received no response.

“Mama?” She opened the door and peeked in. The room was empty, no sign at all of her mother, although the gown she'd been wearing earlier lay strewn across the bed.

Stifling a sigh, she ran down the servants' stairs and entered the kitchen, only to stop short and stare. She'd always thought her mother a beautiful woman, but now, clad in the uniform of a Union private, she looked stunning. And if she wasn't mistaken, she looked younger too, especially with her hair curling down her back. Perhaps once the dark chestnut locks were pinned up and a hat pulled low on her head, no one would notice how lovely she was. Shaelyn could only hope.

“I'm ready.” Her mother held up two burlap sacks, the bottoms bulging. “I thought we might need food. Some bread, some cheese, and a few pieces of chicken left over from last night.”

“Mama, you're a wonder. I hadn't thought about food.” She noticed her mother's high color and the slight trembling of her hands. “Are you certain you want to do this? It's not too late to change your mind.”

“I won't be changing my mind.” A sigh escaped Brenna as she tied one of the burlap sacks with a piece of string. “I've been in the shadows too long, dear. Ever since your father died, I haven't been myself, but seeing Jock, falling in love with him, I feel like I'm finally living again.”

Shaelyn swallowed the lump crowding her throat and gave a quick nod. “I'll saddle Jezebel then. We'll ride double.”

Within minutes, they were heading north, the opposite direction Remy had taken, and turned down Silver Street, which made a sort of circle around the bluffs and Natchez-Under-the-Hill. Behind her, Brenna held on tight, arms wrapped around her waist. The burlap sacks bumped against her thighs.

By the time they reached the warehouse, Shaelyn's heart thundered against her ribcage. Sweat, cold and clammy, made the uniform stick to her skin, and yet, she had no desire to turn back. She doubted her mother would either. She nudged Jezebel's sides and slowed the horse to a walk.

A young man tended Remy's horse outside the warehouse, but she didn't see her husband at all—and he would have been easily seen among the young men milling about outside the building. No one's hair gleamed as black in the sunlight as Remy's. No one else had his commanding presence. Was he inside? Already on the
Lady Shae
? All this would be for naught if he saw her before she could board the side-wheeler.

Holding her breath, Shaelyn guided Jezebel along the alleyway beside the warehouse then slipped behind the building and continued on the narrow path to Dixon's livery a few doors down. She slid from the saddle and then reached up to help her mother. Leading the horse by the reins, she stepped through the open door. “Mr. Dixon?”

“Just a minute. I'll be right there.” Mr. Dixon's voice rang out from his office. He appeared a moment later, two pieces of bread wrapped around a thick slab of ham in his hand, his jaw and big teeth working the food in his mouth. “Can I help you?” He stopped in his tracks and stared, his mouth opening and closing several times, exposing half-chewed sandwich, before he stammered, “M-miss Shae?” He swallowed hard and his voice rose as his gaze slid past Shaelyn and settled on Brenna. “Mrs. Cavanaugh! What…why…”

“No time for questions, Mr. Dixon.” Shaelyn dug a few coins out of her pocket. “I need you to keep Jezebel for a few days.”

“But—”

Shaelyn handed him the coins as well as Jezebel's reins, grabbed her mother's hand, and made a quick exit before Mr. Dixon could get his wits about him. She almost chuckled at the stunned expression on the livery master's face as they headed back toward the warehouse.

As they stepped inside the cool, dark interior of the building through the back door, she warned, “Don't look at anyone and don't talk to anyone. Keep your head down.”

Brenna simply smiled, from all appearances not nervous, not even a bit. Indeed, she seemed to be enjoying this adventure into sheer lunacy. They tucked the ends of their burlap sacks into their belts then fell into step with a group of men collecting crates of fruits and vegetables, and followed the line toward the
Lady Shae
.

Shaelyn still hadn't seen Remy. She didn't see Davenport either and with every step she took, she prayed she wouldn't see either of them, at least not until the
Lady Shae
was well under way.

She felt it then—the unmistakable sensation that someone watched her. She glanced up toward the side-wheeler's pilothouse, and almost stumbled over her own feet. Remy stood at the open window, posture rigid, eyes narrowed and intent…on her. In an instant, her heartbeat quickened and her stomach clenched with panic. She glanced at her mother, who seemed oblivious to Remy's presence.

Don't recognize me
. The words popped into her head.

Ignoring her alarm, Shaelyn concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, a litany of prayers repeating in her head. She snuck another glance toward the wheelhouse and nearly choked on her own breath. Remy hadn't left his station, for which she was grateful. However, his gaze remained fixed on her, as if he saw through her disguise. His hands were now clasped behind his back, a posture he assumed when heavily in thought, and she couldn't help feeling she'd be caught any moment, especially when he leaned forward and narrowed his eyes.

Her knees went weak beneath the intensity of that stare, and her heart, already pounding, thundered even harder. She stumbled and quickly caught herself, unable to glance to the side to see if anyone saw. To her surprise, her mother drew a little closer and said in an even tone that commanded obedience, “Don't lose your nerve now, Shae. He's not looking at you. He's not looking at anything.”

“How do you know that, Mama?”

She shrugged as her grip on the crate of apples tightened, her knuckles gleaming white. “I just know. I've seen that exact same expression on your father's face. Jock's too. Remy may be looking right at you, but I doubt he's seeing you. Just keep walking. We're almost there.”

Her mother was correct. The landing stage loomed ahead as they followed the line of men. There were others already on the boat, collecting the crates, stacking them one on top of the other in small columns so they could be distributed to the correct place.

Shaelyn followed the private in front of her and held her breath. No words were spoken as a young man relieved her of her crate. Indeed, she didn't dare look at him. Instead, she glanced at the floorboards beneath her, hunching her shoulders forward.

Beside her, Brenna did the same. And just like that, they were aboard the
Lady Shae
.

“Well, that was easy,” her mother said as they strode away from the staging area at a fast clip. She tried to wipe fruit juice from her hands by rubbing them together, but ended up using her trousers to clean it off. “He didn't even look at me.”

“We're not out of danger yet, Mama. We still need to make it to the Texas deck without being seen. Or stopped.”

On previous trips, the
Lady Shae's
decks had swarmed with men in blue. She and Brenna would have perhaps not quite blended in, but been ignored. This trip was entirely different, as it wasn't to bring supplies or transport troops. There was one purpose for the
Lady Shae
to leave Natchez—to search for the
Sweet Sassy
. Her crew numbered only a few.