Wings of a Dove (5 page)

    With a cautious step, she followed Mr. Smith's lead as they boarded the ship, crossed the deck, and descended the companionway to the steerage cabins. With each successive level they reached, Allie's trepidation grew. She did not like abandoning the sun and fresh air above to descend into the foul-smelling darkness of the lower decks. One glance at Mr. Smith's face revealed he shared her dismay at the filth of the berths and the coarse mattresses provided on the remaining floor space in the open deck accommodations.

    ''A thousand passengers before us, and doubtless not a change of linens or a clean cloth passed over a single surface." Mr. Smith's muttered comment lifted Allie's gaze to his face. Sensing her scrutiny, he forced a smile.

    "But we will survive, will we not, children?"

    Along with the others, Allie nodded to Mr. Smith's question, but her response lacked conviction.

    The crashing of hooves against the deck above them a short time later, and the realization that the livestock she had seen on    the dock were being loaded over their heads, seemed to shrink their crowded, rank quarters even more.

    But it was only after the ship was under way and darkness had reduced their deck to wavering shadows that the plaintive cries of the animals took on an almost human sound, the creak and groan of the ship gained an ominous tone, and the sounds of convulsive retching filling the darkness around her became a personal assault.

    Allie cast a short glance at the other children and swallowed tightly. Most of them were asleep. She envied them their escape from this frightening world of shadows, for despite her greatest efforts, her eyes would not close.

    Delaney turned restlessly in an attempt to get comfortable, but sleep continued to elude him. There had been a shortage of bunks, and he had found himself, along with some of the other older boys, provided with nothing more than a vermin-filled mattress and a spot on the deck in which to lay it. Adjusting his position, Delaney shrugged. He would be glad to be away from this ship, but, in truth, he had endured worse circumstances in the past.

    Turning, Delaney looked around the crowded steerage cabin. It was a repetition of the previous night, only worse. Even the darkness was not still. Weary immigrants, filling every nook and cranny between and around the children's group, moved steadily in the shadows some women washing clothes, some men smoking in silence, some drinking and mumbling to themselves. Others, judging from the grunting, almost animal like sounds emanating from the far corner, were seriously involved in another business entirely.

    As it had countless times during the long day, Delaney's gaze touched unconsciously on the small, pale-haired girl who had approached him the night before. She had pulled herself upright on the bunk, her posture rigid. His frown darkened. He remembered her face when she had awakened that morning and glanced toward him for reassurance, and he remembered her startled glance at the coldness with which he had turned from her mute appeal. But he also remembered the strong sense of caution that had returned to plague him upon awakening. He had been angry with himself, regretting his softness of the night before. He did    not need the complication of a frightened little girl following at his heels, no matter how brave the front she attempted to present. His future would be decided within the next few days, and he did not intend to make any more mistakes. There was only one person for whom he was going to be responsible, and that person was himself.

    His decision made, he had stuck to it, but he had not forgotten the expression in the girl's eyes. The memory of it even now caused him discomfort. Her eyes big and brown in her small, thin face, she had looked for all the world like a wounded fawn he had seen in a picture book when he was younger. It gave him little peace knowing he was responsible for the most recent wounding of a fawn that had been wounded too many times before.

    Delaney moved restlessly, annoyed by his preoccupation with the frail-looking orphan who sat rigidly on her bunk a few feet away. Toughened by the streets, he no longer needed the solace of the medal he wore around his neck, the same medal the girl had held with such reverence the night before. He didn't need anyone, but he was uncomfortably aware that such was not the case with that little girl.

    Delaney gave a short, unconscious shake of his head. The girl was obviously out of place in this group of orphans, snoozers, and copper pickers. The mother whom she had defended so vigorously the night before had left her ill prepared for the hardships she faced.

    A small shudder shook the girl's skinny frame, bringing Delaney's wandering thoughts up short. If he didn't miss his guess, the girl didn't want to lie down on the mattress because it was crawling with bugs and smelled of sweat and filth. He remembered a time when he had suffered the same revulsion, but he had long since overcome it.

    She brushed something from her arm, shuddering again, and he could almost see the tears brimming in those big, lost eyes.

    Unfamiliar, warring emotions assailed him and Delaney clamped his teeth tightly shut. With great deliberation, he turned his back. So the girl was unhappy. It was no business of his.

    Allie brushed anxiously at her arm once, and then again. panic was beginning to overwhelm her. She was tired, but she    didn't want to lie down on the mattress. It was infested with bugs. She had sat up when one crawled across her forehead, and she still shuddered to think that it could have found its way into her hair to nest there. The memory of her own bed at home returned, the one she had shared with Mama, and Allie took a deep, pained breath. The linens had been clean and white; Mama had prided herself on keeping them and the room spotless.

    Abruptly drawing her thoughts to a halt, Allie closed her eyes. It would do no good to torment herself with memories of the past. She needed to concentrate on her unknown future and try to become the kind of woman Mama had wanted her to be.

    An unexpected sound in the semidarkness made Allie turn apprehensively in its direction. She gasped as Delaney Marsh appeared out of the shadows and wordlessly sat beside her. He was frowning, and when he spoke, his voice was a low whisper.

    "Your name's Allie, isn't it?"

    Startled by his question, Allie nodded. His eyes narrowed as he returned her stare. The startling color was surprisingly light in the dim glow as he gave a sarcastic snort.

    "Allie. What kind of name is that for a nice little Irish girl?"

    Allie flushed. She was familiar with tormenting.

    "I don't like people to make fun of me."

    "I wasn't making fun of you. I was asking a question."

    "You weren't. You were making fun, and I don't like it."

    "What if I don't care what you like?"

    "Then I won't answer you."

    "And if I said I don't care if you don't answer me?"

    "I'd say that's stupid."

    "Stupid?"

    "Yes. You wouldn't have asked a question if you didn't want an answer." Allie snapped her lips tightly shut. Adopting the same defense that had worked so well for her in the past, she allowed her gaze to cool and her expression to become aloof. She would not allow Delaney Marsh to get the best of her.

    But Marsh was not put off.

    "All right. I'll put it another way. What's the name you were baptized with? No girl who believes in 'the Lady' was baptized with a name like Allie."

    Her anger mollified at the mention of the Lady, Allie responded with polite stiffness. "Mary Alice Pierce is the name on my birth papers, but Mama called me Allie."

    "I think I'll call you Mary Alice."

    Delaney's response made Allie flush more hotly than before. He
was
making fun of her!

    Allie stared into his face in a manner she hoped was supremely haughty. "Then I won't answer you."

    Delaney shrugged. "That's too bad. I just thought that nice little Irish girl, Mary Alice Pierce, might want to borrow my medal again."

    Allie's defensive posture slipped as her eyes darted to Delaney's chest. A spark of hope came alive inside her. Did Delaney Marsh really mean what he said, or was he just teasing her more cruelly than before?

    Biting her lip in anxious confusion, Allie was about to respond when a sound nearby caused her to glance toward Mr. Smith as he drew himself to his feet. Gripping her arm unexpectedly, Delaney pulled Allie off the bunk and onto the floor, out of Mr. Smith's sight. By way of explanation he offered softly, "I don't think Mr. Smith would understand about the Lady."

    Allie nodded in agreement. No one had understood about the Lady after Mama died no one but Delaney.

    Within a few moments Allie was again holding the medal in her hand, a familiar warmth suffusing her. She squinted, unable to make out the Lady's face in the limited light, but it didn't really matter. The darkness was no longer so ominous, or the strange noises so frightening, and the sting of her earlier exchange with Delaney Marsh had faded.

    Still clutching the medal, Allie looked up at Delaney with new insight. Her whispered question was offered with an attempt at a smile. "Delaney Marsh… Why in the world would a nice Irish boy like you have two last names?"

    Moving quickly, the ragtag line of children ascended the companionway to the main deck. Her heart pounding heavily in her chest, Allie gasped as the first ray of sunlight touched her skin and she took a deep breath of fresh air. A sharp push from behind propelled her forward as those in the rear made their bid for a share of the morning sun.

    Allie moved closer to the rail and paused. She was feeling much better this morning. She cast a quick glance behind her as Delaney emerged from the companionway into the sunlight. She saw him squint and take a deep breath, and she realized that fresh air and the realization that their group was only a short distance from its destination was not the only reason for her sense of well-being. She had a friend.

    Glancing once more toward Delaney, Allie smiled. She was not truly certain when it had come to her that Delaney was her friend. He had never even smiled at her, and when he appeared at her side last night, her reaction to him had been far from friendly. She had awakened this morning to find herself alone, with her blanket wrapped around her, but the flame of friendship that had been kindled inside her the previous night still warmed her. Without reasoning why, she knew Delaney cared enough to share the Lady with her, and she was thankful for that.

    Delaney rounded the deck to her left, and Allie caught his eye. She was not deceived by the frown he flashed in her direction. The prison boy, Delaney Marsh, was surly, hard, and difficult. He did not want a girl tagging at his heels. But somehow he was still her friend.

    Allie turned toward the nearing lakeshore. For the first time the conviction was strong within her that she would soon be home.

    Weary to the bone, Allie squinted into the predawn darkness. Yawning, she pushed a wisp of hair from her eye and glanced back at the departing train from which the group of children had disembarked only minutes before. A loud, screeching whistle its parting sally, it disappeared into the darkness. Allie turned her attention back toward Mr. Smith, not in the least sorry to see it go.

    "All right, children, quickly, into the train station."

    Sitting wearily on the floor beside her young fellow travelers a few minutes later, Allie listened to Mr. Smith's exchange with the perplexed stationmaster.

    "But surely you see these children cannot go on now. They are exhausted."

    "It's out of the question, sir. This is not a lodging house. They can't sleep here."

    "It is three o'clock on a Sunday morning! What else do you expect them to do? I tell you, no rules of any consequence will be broken if you allow these poor young travelers the simple comfort of sleeping on the floor. They ask for no more. I cannot see how you can refuse."

    Allie's attention strayed from the intense conversation to the rear of their group, her eyes touching on Delaney as he wandered toward a corner of the waiting room. She watched as he lay down on the floor, rolled his jacket under his head for a pillow, wrapped his blanket around him, and closed his eyes.

    Ignoring the continuing exchange between Mr. Smith and the stationmaster as it progressed in muted tones, Allie proceeded to do the same. She marveled inwardly at the supreme comfort of the hard wooden floor in the last moments before she drifted off to sleep.

    "Where are we, Mr. Smith? Have we arrived?"

    Allie awoke to the morning with a start, Isabel Turner's eager question echoing foggily in the back of her mind. Turning automatically toward Mr. Smith, she awaited his answer, still attempting to blink sleep from her eyes.