George shrugged one shoulder. “Relativelynew, sir. I’ve switched from the Kentucky River to theMississippi.”
“Water’s in your blood, boy?” Mr. Seeverasked, scanning the river. “It has been in mine for a while now. Ikeep thinking I’ll shake it and settle down.”
George’s arms tingled and his fingerstwitched. This was the first time he’d carried on small talk with awhite man. He clasped his hands behind his back. “Being on thewater is better than picking cotton.”
Mr. Seever grunted. “So that’s why you’rewound up so tight. You don’t need to worry, boy. You do the bestyou can; we won’t ask any more of you. The QueenBee is a good ship, good crew.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Mr. Seever rubbed his neatly trimmed beard.Turning, he strode away, calling over his shoulder, “If you haveany problems boy, you come to me.”
George squinted at the man’s back, trying tofigure him out. It was one thing being friendly, but offering himan open invitation? He doubted he’d ever take him up on it. Buthe’d keep it in mind.
Mr. Seever was right. The QueenBee was a good ship, except the roustabouts all knew eachother. He’d exchanged few words with any of them while he workedloading and unloading crates and barrels and other goodson board the steamer. Even afterworking on the ship for a month, George remained an outsider.
The next day, he ate his noon meal alone,propped up against a cotton bale watchingthe shadows shimmering in the water. The other roustaboutsate together. He kept to himself instead of butting in. Maybethey’d welcome him over tomorrow. The job would be damn lonelyuntil he broke into the crew’s inner circle. At the end of theday, he’d earned his sore musclesand no one to commiserate with. He tipped his head back and lookedat the passengers lining the railing on the upper deck. Peoplewatching helped him pass the time. Although he desperately wishedhe had one friend to strike up a conversation. The friendliest ofthe crew was Mr. Seever. He’d never been around a white man whoacted so casual around colored people. It was almost like he viewedthem as equals. This strange notion unnerved him at times. He keptexpecting to be whipped, but the mates only shouted andoccasionally pushed or slapped them for not paying attention.
He should rejoice. So why did the nicetreatment feel so wrong?
George bit his lip. Going back to work on theriver wasn’t what he had expected. He enjoyed it before—atleast more than working in thefield. Now he realized why. He had liked spending time with hisbrother.
The sinking feeling in his stomach grew.Working on the Queen Bee he was alone. Perhaps the time had come forhim to find his own woman. Emma made Frederick very happy. Hewanted that happiness, too.
One day he’d find the perfect woman and getmarried, but after spending time with Frederick and Emma and theirchildren he knew he wasn’t ready to be a father. He lovedFrederick’s children from afar. He liked being an uncle. Would likeit even better when he had his own place and could spend time withthem and then send them home.
Crying, screaming babies were not for him.Not to mention the constant stinky diapers. He had had enough ofthat over the past year.
It would take a special woman to understandor make him change his mind.
The next time the QueenBee docked in St. Louis he’d go ashore and visit the coloredcommunity; he’d see if a colored belle caught his eye.
Chapter 3
ALLISON SHIVELED INSIDE, eyeing Grier. Theyhadn’t even kissed tonight and his trousers were tented. He justwanted to be inside her. Grier managed to concoct fantasies in hismind to get him into the mood even when she was at her sourestdisposition.
Tonight he’d shed his clothes quicker thanAllison thought possible. It had to be a record. Naked, he took thekey off from around his neck and unlocked her leg iron. “Time forbed.”
She stood. If she didn’t, he’d yank her up byher arms. One broken wrist had taught her that lesson.
His green eyes swept her frame with unbridledlust. Gooseflesh rose on her arms and her stomach threatened toempty. That look never ceased to repulse her.
“Are you going to be a good girltonight?”
No. Allison’s mouth popped open, butinstead of answering she shrieked. One night someone would hear herand come to her aid.
He kissed her forcefully, his mouth coveringhers to keep her quiet.
Sweat slicked her body, pulse galloping likea runaway horse. She started counting. She would get through thisone more time.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushedher down on the bed. Pinning her arms over her head, he pulled hershift up revealing the lower half of her body. She hated beingtrapped worse than anything. Her heart filled with hate. How darehe keep doing this to her! She wanted to hurt him, bad. A monsterdeserved to die. Enough.
“When are you going to learn?” hegrowled.
Never! Her body stilled, but herinsides were a torrent of frenetic energy looking for release. Todo him harm.
With his knee, he spread her thighs apart.
She saw an opening. She raised her leg andkicked him and he grimaced. “Damn you! You’re going to pay.”
No. He was. Tonight. She kicked himagain, aiming for gold and striking it rich.
He let go of her hands and stepped back. “Sonof a bitch.” He grabbed his crotch, doubled over, cursing, hisraspy voice coming in gasps.
Emboldened by her sudden freedom, she sprangoff the bed and smashed the kerosene lamp on the floor, sparking afire. She picked up one of the pillows, held it to the flames untilit burned and then threw it at the drapes. She needed to start afire too big for him to put out. If she had to, she’d burn theplace down with both of them in it. Either way this ended here, tonight.
A hand tightened around her arm and hedragged her over to the corner, clamping the iron around her ankleagain.
“Are you trying to kill us both?” hemuttered.
He frantically tried to douse the flames by beating them with blankets,but the fire spread fast across the shoddy cabin. Mouth coveredwith his arm, he coughed until his face turned red. Soon
