The Book of Lost Friends(23)

The man backs off.

“Let the darkies get within five feet of one another, and all they want to do is loll around and chat,” Missy squawks. “Isn’t that so, boy?”

“Yes’m,” I say back. “That sure is true.”

For the first time, there’s a thrill in fooling her this way. She don’t have one thin idea who she’s talking to. Might be a sin to lie, but I take pride in it, of a sudden. I take power in it.

We come round some buildings that faces the river on one side. Missy Lavinia wants to go in the alleyway behind, so that’s what I do.

“There,” she says, like she’s been here before, but I got a sense she’s seeing all this for the first time. “The red door. Mr. Washburn’s shipping office is inside. He is not only an adviser to Papa in matters of law, and the superintendent of Papa’s land holdings in Texas, he is also one of Papa’s closest associates in business, as you may or may not know. Papa took me to dinner with Mr. Washburn in New Orleans. They spoke late into the night in the lounge after I was to retire to our hotel suite. I lingered a bit, of course, to listen. They being members of the same…society of gentlemen…Mr. Washburn committed to looking after Father’s intentions, should Father be unable. Papa later instructed me to seek out Mr. Washburn, if the need should ever arise. He will have copies of Father’s papers. Why, he most likely drew them up for Papa personally.”

I peek under my hat to gander at Juneau Jane. She believing all this? Her kid leather gloves finger the reins while she looks at that building. The big gray horse, he’s troubled by her worry. He twists his head back and nuzzles her boot, then nickers soft.

“Come along,” Missy pesters, and wants down from the carriage. I got no choice but to help her. “We can’t solve our trouble sitting here, now can we? You’ve nothing to fear, Juneau Jane. Unless, of course, you really are uncertain of your position, that is?”

The trouble-itch goes all over me. Missy’s rubbing that gold locket she’s had almost long as I can remember. She only does that when she’s fixing to hatch somethin’ awful bad. Juneau Jane best turn that gray horse the other way and spur him to a gallop. Whatever Missy’s got in mind to happen next, it ain’t good.

I barely hear when that red door creaks open. A tall, well-made man with skin a light shade of brown answers. I’d take him for the butler, but he ain’t wearing livery, just a work shirt and brown wool trousers that form over his strong thighs and dip into stovepipe boots at the knee.

He frowns and eyeballs us close, all three. “Yes’m?” he says to Missy. “I help you, Missus? Believe you must’ve come callin’ at the wrong door.”

“I’m expected,” Missy snaps.

“Hadn’t been told of anybody expected.” He don’t move, and Missy turns peevish.

“I’ll see your employer, boy. Fetch him for me, now, I say.”

“Moses!” A man’s voice calls from inside, quick and ornery. “Mind the task I’ve put you to. Five more men to crew the Genesee Star. Healthy with strong backs. Have them here by midnight.”

Moses gives us one last look before he steps back into the shadows and is gone.

A white man takes up the empty space. He’s tall and thin, hollow in his cheeks with a straw-colored mustache and beard that rounds down and circles the bony point of his chin.

“I’m expected. We’ve come to see a friend,” Missy says, but she’s rubbing her neck and sounds like she’s got cotton in her throat, so I know she ain’t telling the truth.

Stepping out the door, the man chicken-jerks his head side to side, checking the alley. Scars run over the left side of his face like melted candle wax, and a patch covers one eye. The good eye turns my way. “Our mutual friend specifically requested that only the two of you come.”

I squat down, checking the horse’s bad leg, getting myself small as possible.

“And we have. Why, other than my driver boy, of course.” Missy Lavinia laughs, nervous-like. “The road isn’t safe for a woman alone. Surely Mr. Washburn will understand.” Missy pulls her hands behind her back, pushing her bosom up to show it off, only she ain’t got much of one. She’s just square and straight, all the way up and down, big shouldered like Old Mister. “I’ve a distance to return home on the road yet and barely the daylight needed. I’d prefer to conclude our business as efficiently as possible. I’ve brought what I was asked to, exactly as requested…by Mr. Washburn.”

Don’t know if anybody else sees it or not, but Missy cuts a quick nod toward Juneau Jane, like that’s what she was told to bring—her little half sister.

The door opens wide, and the man disappears behind it. A sticky, pricklin’ cold goes all over me.

Juneau Jane ties her horse to the wagon but stands flat-footed in the street, her blue-striped skirt and white petticoats catching the wind and molding to the calves of her skinny legs. She threads her arms and crinkles her nose like she’s got a whiff of stink. “What is this that you have been requested to bring? How shall I be assured you have not offered compensation to Mr. Washburn as payment for a convenient lie?”

“Mr. Washburn needs nothing from me. Why, the man owns all of this.” Missy waves toward the big building and the river landing on past it. “In partnership with Papa, of course. I’d be most pleased to speak with Mr. Washburn alone, but then you’d have to trust that I will bring to you what information I am able to gather. If Mr. Washburn holds the only remaining copy of Papa’s papers, I could burn them right here in this building, and you would never know. I assume you’ll want to see for yourself. I won’t have you questioning me afterward. If you don’t come in, you must accept my word.”