The Cowboy's Cinderella
“What’s your name, gambler?” she asked then ducked under the water, surfacing a foot closer to him.
“Travis.”
Travis went under the water then came up a yard closer to her. His handsome face was dotted with water. He shook his head, splattering droplets from his short brown hair. It stood up in spikes all over his scalp—gave him a real boyish, friendly look. That sure was contrary to her first impression of him being a no-nonsense man of authority.
“What’s yours?”
“Ivy.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ivy.”
Naked sure was an odd way to meet a fellow, but the night was dark and so was the water.
“So, how much did you lose to keep you restless so late?” She ought to swim to the other side of the boat and float about gazing at the stars, but she was enjoying gazing at Travis’s face instead.
“To tell you the truth, I didn’t do much gambling.”
“Most folks aboard the River Queen come just for that.” A fish nibbled her toes. She kicked it away. “There’s some who just need transportation, but mostly they’re gamblers. Big money gamblers.”
“Are you familiar with the ship?”
“A bit.” She didn’t want to say she knew every inch of it, every board and shadow. That she was training to be a pilot. A lady pilot tended to be frowned upon and for some reason she did not want Travis frowning upon her.
“I’m looking for a woman named Eleanor.”
Her swim time was about up. If she didn’t rap on Uncle Patrick’s door telling him she was safely aboard, he would come looking.
“A sweetheart?” Gosh almighty she couldn’t swim away without knowing about that.
“No...not a sweetheart.” Oh? For some reason she was relieved to know it. “She’s inherited a ranch. I’ve got to find her and let her know.”
“And you believe she’s aboard?”
“I have reason to think so,” Travis answered, parting the water between them.
Only ten feet of sparkling river lay between them. Just because the water was dark did not make her any less naked.
Her imagination saw a dozen things that her eyes couldn’t.
It was time and past for her to be in her room.
She ducked under the surface and swam away. When she came up for air she looked back to see Travis on the deck, knee-deep into his britches.
Whoever this Eleanor was, she was a mighty lucky woman to have him looking for her, even if they were not sweethearts.
* * *
With the exception of one gambler, still in his chair but dead asleep with his head lying on the poker table, the saloon was empty.
The man’s pockets were turned inside out. His heavy breathing stirred the cards in front of his mouth.
Travis figured the fellow must have fallen asleep over the losing hand in front of his nose. No doubt, the smile tugging his mouth meant he was dreaming of the winning hand for tonight’s competition.
A lingering scent of cigars hovered in the corners of the large room. For all its size and elegance, the saloon was still cozy. The overstuffed chairs near the windows, the padded stools about the gaming tables, all invited one to stay and enjoy an evening.
With the piano covered for the night, the lamps turned low and everyone abed but the lone sleeper, Travis decided to continue his restless night right here, with his butt snuggled into a plump brown chair and his feet up on a gold ottoman.
For comfort, it beat the hell out of the cot he’d put up beside his horse on the main deck.
He’d taken only a small amount of money on his quest to find Eleanor. The more he left behind for the ranch to keep going, the better.
Since he was on his own, it would not be a problem to live frugally for a time. Even the little bit of gambling he’d done had been for the purpose of gaining information about Miss Magee. It sure hadn’t hurt that he’d won a few dollars.
Hadn’t gained a thing by way of discovering anything about Miss Eleanor, though.
At daylight, the boat was going to turn south. If the lady was not aboard, it would cause him all kinds of trouble. He only hoped the Pinkerton knew his business.
If Travis didn’t come up with any information by nightfall, he’d try and get a moment of the captain’s time, not an easy thing to do, he’d discovered, with such a busy man. But if he couldn’t find out something about Eleanor from her own uncle, he despaired of finding it at all.
That was a notion he couldn’t let his mind dwell on. Futures depended upon him bringing her home.
Hell, what he did want to dwell on was the magical water nymph.
Ivy. Even her name conjured up things fresh, green and growing with abandon, having no regard for rules.
He closed his eyes, reliving the memory of her diving into the water, of her face as she surfaced, so full of the joy of just plain living.
If only he could be more like her. Not that he wanted to run from his responsibilities, but if he could rise above them from time to time...
When Ivy invited him to strip down and join her in the water, he’d felt ten years old again.
He’d liked being ten. By then he was past the constant grief that his parents’ deaths had caused and had come to love his life on the Lucky Clover Ranch.
For a few moments last night, he had been that boy again because looking at Ivy—and he didn’t just mean in appreciation of her lovely body, but her smile and the love of life that shone from her eyes—he’d felt fresh. Renewed.
He’d come from the water full of hope and now he sat in this chair because the only way to hold on to that feeling was to hold her memory fresh. To keep her in his mind so that he could draw on that brief moment out of time.
When life was not so fresh, he would remember Ivy.
Too bad he would never see her again. No doubt by now she was back in Coulson doing whatever a free spirit like her did in the wee hours.
Turning frogs into princes, coaxing butterflies from their cocoons, maybe even leading a symphony of light with fireflies as her instruments, that’s what he would like to think, even though he knew reality was certainly far different.
Reality or not, he was good and sorry he would never see Miss Ivy again.
Chapter Two
It was late the next afternoon when a storm swept in. The boat rocked erratically on the choppy water so the captain decided to set to shore and open the casino early.
As far as Travis could tell, walking past the open saloon door, the weather didn’t dampen the gaiety of the games going on inside.
He worried his horse might be skittish though, so he clasped his hat to his head, leaned into the wind and took the stairs down to the main deck to check on her.
As it turned out, he needn’t have worried. Through the dim light he spotted someone, a young man if he guessed right, speaking to the horse and petting her neck.
“Thank you,” he said when he entered the stall. “I appreciate—”
“Howdy-doo, Travis. This sweet girl belong to you?”
“Ivy?”
The ethereal creature from the night before was still here? This earthy woman, wearing a huge floppy hat and dressed like a man was the same woman he’d fantasized over last night?
“Glad I came across you,” she said. “I’ve been asking around and no one’s claiming to be your Eleanor.”
“Are you traveling on the River Queen, Ivy? I thought you might be from Coulson.”
She snorted...through her nose. The image of the water nymph dissolved and no matter how he tried, he could not get her back.
“That snake pit? Why I’d just as soon live on the moon.”
She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes squinting, judging him, he thought.
“I reckon we became friends last night, so I can tell you.” She gave the horse one last squeeze about the neck then stepped closer to him. There was still something of the woman in the river after all—she smelled like cool fresh water. “I live here. I hope to pilot a boat someday.”
She lived aboard and didn’t know anyone named Eleanor? This was not good news.
All at once, the only thing he wanted to do was sit down in the straw and hang his head. So he did.
It seemed that finding the heir was beyond him, but giving in to a moment of private gloom was within his control.
Or not. The straw rustled beside him when Ivy sat down.
“You know what she looks like? Maybe she goes by some other name?”
“I don’t. She’s got a twin sister with red hair, green eyes, about as tall as you and about your age. They weren’t identical though.”
“I always fancied having a sister.” In the subdued daylight he saw how blue her eyes really were. A sunny blond braid lay over her shoulder. “So much so that I dream of her sometimes. Why, when I was little I used to pretend to play with her. How’s that for fancy?”
Ivy flopped back in the hay, stretched her arms over her head and sighed. “Ain’t this a fine way to pass a stormy afternoon? Tell me about this ranch of yours.”
She patted the straw beside her, inviting him to join her in gazing at the rafters overhead.
Ivy was disarming, and unlike any woman he had ever met. He thought perhaps he liked her, liked her very much.
He lay down beside her. With his arms folded behind his head, he listened to the drum of rain hitting the deck several yards beyond the stall.
“It’s not mine. Not in a legal sense. I started running the place a few years ago when my boss took ill. I kept on after he passed. I feel the responsibility for the ranch like it was mine.”
“I’m right sorry, Travis. You loved him?”
It was easy to hear the regret in her voice. Spoken so softly, he knew she meant it.
“He became a father to me when I lost my folks. Gave me a home when I was a lost little boy.”
“What a kind man he must have been.”
“Kind, yes, and ambitious. It’s a big spread. The biggest in Laramie County...one of the largest in Wyoming.” He closed his eyes, picturing miles upon miles of grassland. How the scent was fresh and how the wind rolled over it in a whisper. “I swear, Ivy, it’s the prettiest piece of land on God’s green earth. You can ride all day long and not get from the east end to the west.”
She eased up on her elbow, gazing down at him. “The land has your heart...just like the river has mine.”
“The Lucky Clover is a special place.”
“The Lucky Clover?” She blinked, grinned, and dug under the collar of her shirt. “Don’t that beat all? Look, my ma gave me this necklace before she passed. It’s got an L and C etched on it. The C’s a mite faded so it could be an O. My Uncle says it must be the initials of some long gone relative. But ain’t that a coincidence?”
“It’s pretty, even though it’s faded...and I’m sorry,” he said. When she looked puzzled he added, “About you losing your mother.”
“I’ve been told I cried for a week solid, but I was only two years old and don’t recall the event anymore.”
“What about you father?”
“I never did recall him.” Thunder rolled overhead. “So this Eleanor, she’s going to inherit the whole ranch?”
“If I can find her.”
“What happens if you can’t?”
He groaned out loud. He didn’t really want to talk about it, he’d prefer to just lie here in the straw and forget for a moment.
“The ranch will fail without her.” Wind whistled around the lower deck blowing in a hail of raindrops, but they didn’t reach inside the stall. “There’s a big mortgage note coming due. If we can’t pay it a lot of folks will lose their livelihoods, their homes. People who have lived on the Lucky Clover their whole lives will be put out.”
“I can’t imagine losing my home here on River Queen.” She sat up, frowning and glancing about. “Some say the trains will be the end of the river trade, but I think folks will always want to gamble on a steamer.”
“I hope that’s true, Ivy.”
“And I hope you find your heir.”
All of a sudden, he wanted to reach up and touch her cheek. In spite of her boyish clothing, her skin was fair, pink cheeked with a light smattering of freckles across her nose.
He laced his fingers together behind his head.
“Even if I find her I’ve got to convince her to do something I reckon she won’t want to.”
“She might...if she gets a sister and a fine ranch for the trouble.”
“She’ll have to marry our rich neighbor. It’s the only way to get the ranch out of the debt it’s fallen into.”
“Gosh almighty!” Ivy clasped her hand to her throat. “What are you going to do when she says no?”
“You think she will? I’m offering a lot in exchange.”
“I think it depends upon her life. Maybe she’ll be willing if she’s a lonely spinster...but I don’t see that she’s old enough to give in to that yet. And what if she’s married already with a pack of young’uns...but I wonder if she might be a widow...in that case you have some hope.”
“I do know that she is not married. The Pinkerton I hired didn’t know much, but he knew that, and that she is supposed to be living on this boat.”
“Could be he meant the River Belle. She sails the Missouri.” Ivy’s hat began to tilt even though she hadn’t touched it. “Good news if that’s so. We’re putting into dock beside her tomorrow night at Bridgerton Landing. Big gambling day for both boats with rich folks coming from all over.”
Something...a mouse, tumbled from Ivy’s hat! He swatted at the dirty vermin, anxious to keep it off Ivy.
She laughed, reached out and caught the creature in the palm of her hand.
She nuzzled its white head with her nose.
“Don’t tell me you’re skittish over a little old mouse?”
“Repelled more than—”
All of a sudden Ivy placed the mouse in his hand.
“Little Mouse is a sweet thing once you get to know her.”
The “sweet thing” nipped his thumb.
“See? She likes you?”
“Where’d it come from?”
Ivy took the hat from her head, pointed to a pocket attached to the brim.
“She lives here in my hat when we’re out. She’s got her own little cage in my room.” The mouse leapt from his hand and onto Ivy’s shirt. It scrambled up to sit on her shoulder. “You will keep my secret, won’t you? There’d be the dickens to pay if anyone but Tom knew about her.”
“It can’t be healthy, wearing a rodent on your head.”
“Well, she’s white, and not vermin. Little Mouse is as clean as you or me. And she’s tidy of habit...goes off to do her business.”
“Ivy, that’s—”
“None of your business, Travis.” Her eyes narrowed at him, daring him, he thought, to believe otherwise.
“Not my business to tell, is what I was about to say. But I still don’t think mice ought to live in ladies’ hats.”
All of a sudden she started to laugh, deep from her belly.
“Can’t you picture that?” she sputtered, trying but not able to control her giggles. “All the screaming and swatting...the fainting?”
He did see it, smiled, then burst out laughing along with her. He sat up, bent over at the middle. All of a sudden his worry felt twenty pounds lighter.
When the humor began to even out, she swatted his knee.
“It’s a lucky thing I’m no lady. I’d sooner fall in the river and never come up than be like one of those poor females.”
He’d always been partial to the sweet gender, enjoyed their delicate, flirtatious ways.
But he’d never forget Ivy. She was not the water nymph he’d fantasized over...she was so much more.
* * *
Morning dawned bright as a new penny. Climbing the outdoor stairs to the pilothouse Ivy breathed deep, savoring the fresh scent of river and pine.
This was going to be a good day filled with the wonder of learning the river, then come nightfall the excitement of games of chance.
“Howdy-do, Uncle Patrick!” She crossed the small space to give her uncle a hug around the middle. “Did we turn a profit last night?”
“Not much, my money-minded little love, but tonight we should earn enough to keep you happy.”
“I’m only money minded so that we can keep the boat going. You know I don’t give a fig about the fancy things to be had with it.”
“Maybe you ought to.” Uncle Patrick’s bushy white eyebrows nearly touched when he frowned down at her. “How are you ever going to get a husband dressed like a boy?”
“Why would I want one of those?” Her uncle meant well, but his aim for her life was a mite different than her own. “I’m happy as a mudsucker here with you.”
“A woman needs a home and family.”
“Not this woman.” She placed her hands on the wheel. It was so large it extended below deck. She felt a thrum pulsing through the wood. The power of the engine, the pull of the boat drawing through water, was right under her fingertips.
Exhilaration claimed her to her toes and back.
“No swimming for you tonight, young lady. The gamblers won’t be abed at all.”
“I hope not.”
“And don’t you go sneaking off to gamble, either.”
“I’ll keep my clothes on, but I won’t promise not to earn us a fistful of money.” She nudged her uncle in the ribs, shot him a grin. He’d always claimed to disapprove of her gambling, but she was skilled at it. In spite of his duty-bound admonitions, she knew he was proud of her. “Besides, I’m looking for someone who might be on the Belle.”
“A man?” Her uncle asked, overstating his hope.
“A woman...for a man.”
“You matchmaking for one of the roustabouts?”
“There’s a passenger, a nice, friendly fellow named Travis, looking for the heir to the ranch he ramrods. If he doesn’t find her the ranch will be lost.”
“And she’s one of our passengers?”
“Not that I’ve heard of. Travis is under the belief that she lives on the Queen. But since I’m the only woman living here, I reckon he wasted good money on the Pinkerton he hired.”
“A Pinkerton?” Uncle Travis mumbled, then grew silent, watching the river with a frown. He must sense some danger she did not yet have the skill to detect.
“The lady’s name is Eleanor. If you recall someone of that name, it would help our passenger out a great deal.”
Her uncle swung his gaze away from the river and settled it on her. She noticed his throat constrict, swallow hard.
“Eleanor?” Odd that his voice sounded unusually gruff...drawn tight in a way that was not common for him. “Girl got a last name?”
“Plum forgot to ask. Reckon it would help if she’s using her true name but we can’t be sure.” She shrugged. “Could be we’ll find her on the Belle.”
Uncle Patrick grunted.
“You see some trouble out there that I don’t, or you got a bellyache?”
He stood behind her, covering her hands with his strong, gnarled ones.
“Could be trouble,” he said. “We’d best ready ourselves for it, just in case.”
As hard as she stared at the water, she could see nothing but the calm surface. She longed for nothing more than the ability to see what a seasoned pilot like her uncle could in its murky depths.
* * *
Travis had sat down at a poker table in the casino of the River Belle at a little after nine. This early in the evening gaming was a social event, the bets low enough that the gamblers without much money could join in and hope to get lucky.
The luck that Travis was after was to find Eleanor Magee without losing too much in the process.
He’d been partially successful. In the three hours he’d been in this chair, he had tripled his money but come no closer to unearthing the elusive Miss Magee.
He’d met a lot of people from both boats tonight, deck hands, roustabouts and sons of millionaires. He’d been told that the fathers and boat owners would come later on when the losers had drunk their fill and emptied their pockets.
If he quit playing now, he’d be nicely ahead. But there were still plenty of folks visiting the saloon. One of them might know something.
The future of the Lucky Clover’s cowboys and their families depended upon what happened here. What was walking away a winner compared to that?
A woman came into the saloon, her sparkling gown catching the glow of the lantern light. She was too old to be Agatha’s twin. No doubt she was the wife of a rich gambler, or perhaps the mother of one of the young men at the table with him.
The dealer skillfully dealt the hands. Travis stared down at the backs of his cards, wondering what they would reveal. The only lady he was going to find was the cold likeness of a queen.
He yawned. Couldn’t help it. It was nearly midnight and he, because of his years on the ranch, was an early riser.
All of a sudden the scent of fresh water chased away the stench of tobacco.
“Howdy-doo, gentlemen!”
“Miss Ivy!” exclaimed a young man sitting at the table. He greeted her with a broad, friendly grin. “You won’t get my money this time!”
None of the men stood up like they had done when the woman in the sparkling gown came in.
Just because Ivy didn’t have an elegant bearing, did not mean she was not a woman due respect.
Travis stood, pulled out the chair beside him. “Miss Ivy,” he said. “We’d be pleased to have you join us.”
“Nice to see there’s one gentleman present.” She slapped him on the back and sat down on the red velvet stool. “Boys, hold on to your chips. Especially you, Travis. Once a fellow begins to yawn, he might just as well pass his money to the left...gosh almighty, I’m on your left!”
Laughter rang out at the table. Clearly, Ivy was a popular player.
Ivy’s hat shifted. She reached for the pouch and stroked it. He doubted that anyone else knew there was a mouse living inside. For some reason it pleased him, sharing that special secret with Ivy.
An hour later, Ivy had most of the chips in front of her. Somehow, he had managed to only lose a small stack to her.
It was now one thirty in the morning. Back home everyone would be asleep except for the cowboys keeping night watch over the herd.
He tried to stifle a yawn but the urge to doze was too strong.
“Better get back to the River Queen, Travis, before all your chips end up in front of me.”
She leaned closer to him and whispered. “I’ll ask around after your heir.”
“Obliged,” he whispered back. And he was. In the shape he was in now Eleanor could sit down next to him and he wouldn’t even notice.
He stood up, bid the men at the table goodbye then nodded to the man waiting to fill his spot.
From the doorway, he heard Ivy ask the newcomer if he knew someone named Eleanor...last name unknown.
Walking out onto the deck, he shook his head. How had he neglected to inform Ivy that Eleanor’s last name was Magee? In the end, he reckoned it didn’t matter since she might be going by another name anyway.
Fresh June air washed the scent of tobacco from his hair and clothes. He breathed it deeply to cleanse his lungs. While cowboys also tended to smoke around the campfire at night, the space was wide open and one did not become suffocated with the fumes.
It was a short walk from the gangplank of the River Belle to the gangplank of the River Queen. Walking between them, he gazed up at the stars, then lower at the lamps glowing cheerfully in the windows of the Queen’s casino.
It would be a profitable night for both boats.
For Travis, there was only one thing he wanted...well two, maybe three...but just now, he was for his cot next to his horse on the lower deck.
Rounding a corner, he spotted Captain Malone. The boat owner stepped away from the shadowed wall and strode toward him, his pipe puffing smoke into the night.
“Mr. Murphy,” the captain said. “I’ve been hoping to speak with you.”
That was a bit of luck. He’d been eager to speak with Malone but had never gotten the opportunity.
“If you wouldn’t mind?” Captain Malone indicated a bench with a swipe of his pipe. “It’s been a long day and these old bones begin to ache, what with the damp and cold coming off the river. I ain’t the man I used to be...not by a stone’s throw.”
“I’ve been hoping to speak with you as well.” Travis sat then the Captain sat beside him. The boat swayed gently beside the dock. The splash of water against the side sounded gentle compared to the jovial laughter and the cries of dismay of the gamblers.