The River Rose by Gilbert Morris

Author:Gilbert Morris [Morris, Gilbert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781410451224
Publisher: B&H Books
Published: 2012-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

THE NIGHT SKY WAS washed clean by the rain, and countless stars glittered. A solemn half moon hung low, too close to the horizon to reflect in the river. The Helena Rose was at rest at Widow Eames' Landing, a solid dock made of cypress. Up a long, gentle hill six lantern-lit windows glowed from the Eames house, three windows downstairs and three windows upstairs. Clint thought that it was a lot of lights for one widow, but then he didn't know if she was lucky enough to have family living with her.

He was sitting up on the hurricane deck in the soundless night, just staring up at the sky. It was unusual for him to be so still for so long. But he felt tranquil, not restless, as he watched the old moon and the stars and smelled the rich fragrance of wet earth and felt the tentative warmth of early spring.

Jeanne came onto the deck and crossed over to him. "I'm so sorry," she said quietly.

"Don't be," he said hurriedly. "Here, take my front-row seat. I'll go get me another one." He went into the wheelhouse and came out with another long bolster, the padding from the benches. Jeanne was already seated, her legs crossed beside her, her back against the 'scape pipe. Clint arranged his pillow and sat down. "Hope you don't mind me abusing your bench padding."

"No, I don't. I never sit on the bench anyway. So. How did you make it?"

"Okay. I kind of zigged and zagged along, because I couldn't get the hang of the wheel for awhile. I yanked us this way, then I'd shoot us over that way. Ezra said I was driving like a Sattiday night drunk. Begging your pardon, ma'am."

He couldn't see her face very well, but he sensed her smile. "I didn't feel any zigging or zagging. I think you must have done fine."

"Thanks, Captain."

"You're welcome."

She turned her face upward, and it was lit by starlight and faint moonglow. Her profile was clean, her nose small, her lips youthfully full, her neck long and slender and graceful. "I've seen so many nights here, at this landing. Widow Eames used to have a big eight-sided gazebo painted white right there. She had a large family, you see, and her sons built it. In summer sometimes the Eames and families from all around used to come down here and picnic and swim and dance in the gazebo. That gazebo was probably the most familiar landmark on the Arkansas River."

"What happened to it?" Clint asked curiously.

She sighed deeply, a sad sound. "There was a tornado. It destroyed the gazebo and the dock and—and the Pearl, my father's boat. My parents were killed."

Clint drew a sharp indrawn breath. "I'm so sorry, Jeanne. You weren't on the boat?"

"No, I was married, and Marvel was five months old. We were living in Memphis. The tornado was on May 7, 1849, and it caused a lot of damage between Little Rock and Arkansas Post, and eighteen people died.

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