Lily (Song of the River) Read Online Free PDF

owner of a boat. A picture of his father flashed in his mind. The old man couldn’t accuse him of being a ne’er-do-well anymore. How he would enjoy informing the stodgy puritan of his success. Perhaps one day he would chug his steamboat upriver and make a visit.
    A sigh escaped. Probably not. Even if he did, Blake had the feeling reality wouldn’t be as fulfilling as his imagination. Besides, he had left that life long ago. There would be no going back for him. Not that he wanted to. No, he and his father would never see eye to eye. It was better for them to be as separated by distance as they were by belief.
    Blake shook his head as he sauntered across his stateroom to the bureau that held all his belongings. His holster and gun were draped across the top. He checked the gun carefully. Natchez Under-the-Hill was far too rowdy a town for him to wander about unarmed.
    Satisfied the weapon would fire if needed, he laid it down and picked up his leather gun belt, securing it around his waist and letting the holster dangle against his upper thigh. He tied the strips of rawhide around his leg and dropped his gun into the holster. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. He’d never yet shot a man, but there was always the first time. The danger surrounding his occupation was part of its attraction.
    He opened the top drawer and pulled out two blades—a genuine Bowie knife, made famous right here in Natchez, and his sword cane, his weapon of last resort. He slid the knife into the inside top of his left boot, where he could reach it quickly. He leaned the cane against the wall and shook out his frock coat before putting it on.
    A deck of cards slid into a pocket. A new purchase, they had proven to be worthy of the money he’d spent. He dumped his soiled clothing into a gunnysack and tossed it over one shoulder, grabbed his cane, and made for the door. Blake glanced in the mirror at the smile curving his lips. It was going to be a wonderful day.
    Summer was quickly approaching. Warm air slapped him in the face like a wet facecloth when he stepped outside. Amazing. It was hardly past the middle of May. Blake hoped his neckcloth would stand up to the humidity.
    “Good afternoon, Mr. Blake. We sure had a good crowd last night.”
    Blake turned back to the corridor where the boat’s cook/steward stood. Jensen Moreau was not a handsome man, but his thick shoulders and brawny arms had brought him a fair share of respectful glances from those who visited the
Lucky Lucy.
An inch or two shorter than Blake, Jensen had swarthy skin and dark features that hinted at mixed ancestry. He also sported a thick scar over his left eye. Apparently whatever had caused the scar had severed a muscle, making him appear to squint all the time.
    “It’s good to see you, Jensen.” Blake held out his right hand. “Yes, we did have a crowd. I don’t doubt it’s your food that draws them in for a visit.”
    The shorter man’s smile was as wide as the river. “Mr. Blake, you’re a real jokester. Everyone knows they come here to play an honest game or two of cards. So many would cheat and steal to take their money. Word’s gotten out you run a straight game. That’s why we fills up the boat every night.”
    “Even if that’s true, your wonderful meals keep their bellies full.” Blake smiled at the ruddy color filling Jensen’s cheeks. “Which puts me in mind of a matter I wanted to discuss.”
    Jensen straightened his shoulders and brushed off his apron. “Yes, sir?”
    A chuckle rumbled through Blake. “I’m not going to shoot you, man. I want to offer you a job.”
    “A job?” A frown brought Jensen’s left brow down. “What kind of job?”
    “Were you paying attention to the game last night? Especially a certain young man who had more money than sense?” Blake glanced to see if Jensen remembered.
    He looked confused, so Blake continued. “This young man holds the title to some rather valuable property. Or I should say he used to