He paced. Whether her answer was yes or no—Dear Lord, please don’t let it be no—he’d need to convince her to stay with the Ramseys and Reynolds, until either he could return to Texas someday to make her his wife and work their own ranch, or they could find another safe alternative. Dare he ask so much of her? Either way, he’d need to travel to Texas to make sure she got settled in with them.
A petal on one open bud fluttered. He slowed his pace. Flowers weren’t the most practical gift, and Cora was a very practical lady, but he had to show her that she was a treasure.
He strode to the edge of the wharf and gazed down the murky flow of the Mississippi. A steamer churned toward him, its smokestacks puffing black fumes. Passengers gathered along the white railing, taking in the sights, probably eager to disembark. Was Cora amongst them? Holding onto a piling, he stretched forward. The name on the side of the ship… He squinted. The last two letters were -an. He stretched farther. The bow sliced through the water, moving closer to a dock.Harlan. His chest expanded. Hope was in sight.
CHAPTER 40
Cora gripped the white rail as New Orleans came into view. A myriad of clippers, barges, steamers, and steamboats lined the wharfs and docks along both sides of the Mississippi River. Great cranes loaded bales and crates onto the decks and into the holds of vessels. Beyond the docks stood an infinite labyrinth of buildings. So many people. Enough to make her want to head for the river instead of the city, if it wasn’t for the way the waves had turned her stomach topsy-turvy for the last two days. Besides, she was on a mission to earn Ben’s forgiveness and regain his affection. Adventure, the unknown, and discomfort were to be expected.
Once she reached land, she needed to find the ticket office and book passage for a lady’s cabin on a steamboat heading for St. Louis. From there, Major Ramsey had instructed her to take a boat across to the Illinois side of the Mississippi and catch a train for Philadelphia.
What if Ben wasn’t overjoyed to see her? It was his sister’s idea for her to come. But Ben hadn’t asked her to do so. Hadn’t even mentioned love in his letters. Is that how his letters to Olivia had gone?
She was getting herself too worked up. The divide between her and Ben was her doing, not his. If he didn’t speak of love, it was her mistrust that had led to it.
A salted breeze whipped against her skin and tossed her hair. Streams of coal smoke snaked upward from the smokestacks of steamers and other boats in port. TheHarlan’s whistle blasted a shrill toot. Unease filled her belly. She closed her eyes and prayed. She’d trust the Lord to see her through the journey ahead to Philadelphia, Ben’s heart, and beyond.
Seagulls cawed overhead as the pilot maneuvered theHarlanbetween two other steamers. Sailors threw the mooring lines to their counterparts along the dock. Cora picked up her carpetbag and filed in behind other passengers waiting for their turn to exit. The line edged forward. She reached the top of the gangplank and headed down.
A man stood off to the side at the bottom, clutching a bouquet of red roses. As if he were waiting for his sweetheart. A slouch hat shadowed his face, but the way he stood, tall with his shoulders thrown back, coat open, and his head tilted… Black sack coat and trousers, royal-blue waistcoat, and a white shirt. Exactly what Ben had worn the day he came to tell her he’d saved her ranch from Mr. Coffin.
Her knees wobbled. No. It couldn’t be. She picked up her pace and squeezed by the gentleman in front of her. She was halfway down when the man with the roses glanced up. She gasped. Ben. Her bulging carpetbag dropped to the weathered boards beneath her. People stared and shuffled past her.
Ben grinned up at her, the biggest grin she’d ever seen on a man. Her noodle legs started moving, and so did he, pushing against the flow of people.
She stumbled into him. “What…” She couldn’t even breathe for smiling. “What are you doing here?” The world spun.
Ben’s firm hands curved around her upper arms, steadying her and pressing the newsprint-covered stems against her cloak. “Did you imagine I was going to allow my girl to wander around New Orleans all by herself?”
“You…you and Major Ramsey planned this?” She could hardly speak. Could hardly stand. Her brain had obviously ceased working.
“Nothing that clever.” Hazel eyes drank her in, searching her gaze, with their gold-speckled pools. “I was on my way to Weatherford to protect you from Comanches. But when I disembarked from my steamboat, I received a telegram that my girl was on her way to me.” His grin wavered. “Forgive me if I overstep by referring to you asmy girl.” He raised an eyebrow in question.
“You do not overstep.” She lightly touched his coat lapels and gnawed her lip, attempting to squelch her smile. Words bubbled forth. “But you know those Comanche can be quite formidable suitors when they take a mind to court.” What in the world was she doing?
“And what is that supposed to mean?” His hands slipped to her waist.
She spread her palms against the black wool of his coat. Was that his heartbeat or hers? “I mean, I was on my way to having all of the meat I could eat for winter, and then there were the moccasins?—”
“What moccasins?” A growl rumbled in his throat.
“The ones Wolf Heart left by the corral for me.”
“You accepted a personal present like that from him?”
“I didn’t wear them, but it would have been bad manners to return them.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’ll show you good manners. I’ll throw them in the trash heap if I find them.”
She batted her lashes. “There’s only one man I want to come calling. And I had to hop on a stagecoach, take a train, and book passage on a steamer to come find him.”
His whole face lit up. “Only to discover he was on his way to find you.” His voice dipped.
She leaned into him, her skirt lapping against his trousers. His strong arms tightened around her, turning her legs to jelly. Bay rum and soap filled her nostrils.
“I’m so sorry…about what I said in the garden. I was wrong,” she whispered.
“What matters is now.” He lowered his lips to hers, a soft velvety touch, awakening hunger for more.
