Flight for Life Read online

  Flight for Life

  by Stephy Smith

  Published by Astraea Press

  www.astraeapress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  FLIGHT FOR LIFE

  Copyright © 2012 STEPHY SMITH

  ISBN 978-1-62135-057-6

  Cover Art Designed by For the Muse Designs

  Edited by Em Petrova

  Chapter One

  Zaidee Rogers’ dress soaked up rainwater that pooled on the deck of the riverboat. The rain against her ankle-length dress pressed the material to her petticoats beneath it. She glared down at muddy streets, wooden walkways, and the never-ending roll of fog across the piers of New Orleans. A grave density heightened her suspicions of the eerie atmosphere.

  The shiver running down her spine didn’t have a thing to do with the weather. It was the sobering nearness of a tall stranger who seemed to lurk in the shadows. She had noticed him when she first boarded the riverboat and then again when she had made the arrangements to have her trunk taken to the nearest hotel. His rugged appearance held a mysterious charm. The shock of his random arrivals when she visited the boat’s deck rattled her to the bones.

  The screech of a woman’s laughter hindered her effort to still her trembling hands. A door slammed, muffling the grumbles of voices from behind her. She swallowed a big gulp of air as she moved closer to the railing.

  The robust chuckles from a steamboat crewman flirting with a petite young woman twirling her parasol drowned out the excited mumbles of passengers as they disembarked from the large boat. A surge of anger pricked her spine as a chubby boy pushed past her, almost knocking her overboard.

  Under any other circumstance, she thought, she could possibly have been impressed with the adventure she now experienced. Any other situation would’ve been voluntary. Her way of life, which had been reduced to shambles, now forced her to live as a fugitive, which was neither appealing nor exciting.

  How could the people I have known all my life believe I killed my brother and set fire to the school I taught in? It’s where I was born and raised. The citizens have known me and my family for years and now they’ve abandoned the friendship we once shared.

  She shuddered as she recalled the sarcasm in the murderer’s voice and the revolting stench of his breath as he leaned close to her ear. With calloused hands, he’d held her head straight forward as he stood behind her, refusing to let her turn to see who he was. “I’m following you, and I’ll kill you when I get the chance, Zaidee. I won’t risk leaving a witness to murder or arson of the school. You must die.”

  A light tap on her shoulder pulled her from her memory and stilled her heart. The warm, minty breath of the tall, handsome man aroused her awareness. She took a few steps forward on the crowded ramp. He followed close behind her. Her knees grew weak and threatened to collapse beneath her weight. The gentleness of his touch staved off any hostile intentions for the time being.

  With a quick glance over her shoulder, she stepped from the riverboat. The Mississippi River overflowed with the sleeping vessels tethered to flumes. Zaidee’s nerves were strangled by a continuous sense of vigilant eyes, which sent tremors sneaking down to her toes. The revolting murky water and the air heavy with the distinct odor of fish gagged her. She hastened her steps to the nearest hotel for a room.

  An icy chill crept down her spine, and the unmistakable feeling she was being followed tempted her to turn and look behind her. There was no one in sight, and she blamed it on her overactive imagination. She tried to muster the courage to display a carefree attitude. Somewhere in the shadows of confusion and fright, her bravery crouched like a coward. With slow steps she continued on, aware of everything around her.

  Rowdy sots in tattered clothes staggered on the docks, waving drinks. Loud laughter and rude comments echoed down alleyways. Rats scurried in and out of buildings. Alcohol, vermin, and filthy bodies overpowered and twisted her nervous stomach in knots.

  The weather-rotted saloon sign swinging from an overhang creaked in the breeze. A faint ping of a piano, a clink of glass, and laughter grew louder with each step she took toward the safety of the hotel. Watchful eyes washed over her body. Try as she might, she couldn’t shake the eeriness of being followed.

  Zaidee pulled in a deep breath and listened for footsteps behind her. Pausing, she managed a quick glance down toward the docks for any unusual movement and found none. Then she proceeded down the walkway.

  With gaze fixed straight ahead and a pounding in her chest, she hurried past the saloon’s swinging doors on her way to the hotel. The soles of her shoes clomped against the boardwalk and grew louder the further she ventured. Zaidee’s skirts swished as a breeze picked up and then died back down. A small sign hung in a window, announcing the hotel. She paused at the entrance for an instant.

  It looked dirty and grungy, but it would have to do. Her instructions to the boat’s captain to deliver her trunk to the nearest hotel were now questionable after seeing the place. She couldn’t risk being seen in the open by one of the murderers she knew would come for her. The killers would probably search the higher-class establishments she had been known to visit from time to time.

  She twisted the door handle but the door didn’t budge, so she nudged it with her shoulder. A chill ran down her spine as she stepped into the shabby lobby. The dim lantern glowed from the scarred counter. Stiffness in her neck and shoulders lessened at the thought of one more night of safety.

  Although the fare from Charlotte, North Carolina had taken up a large chunk of her money, she prayed she’d saved enough for stage fare to travel farther west than New Orleans. Zaidee sidled up to the counter and checked into the run-down establishment.

  The sway of the boat along with the lack of sleep caught up with her. Parched and exhausted, she entered a semi-dark room and tossed her bag on the bed. Her cold fingers fumbled with the buttons as she removed her rain-soaked dress.

  A basin of clean water sat in the center of a little table next to the bed. The cool water tempted her skin with little comfort. She dipped her hands to moisten her lips and wash grime from her face and arms. In the dim light from a kerosene lamp on the dresser, Zaidee pulled on her flannel nightgown, lay on the bed, and fell into a disturbed sleep.

  When she woke with a start in the darkness, she could have sworn someone had called out her name. The voice in her dream wasn’t one she was familiar with, and dark brown eyes haunted her. It was the fellow from the boat. Why was he always in the shadows, staring as if he were a cat on the prowl? His clean-shaven face, partially concealed by the brim of his western hat, inspired a burning desire deep in the pit of her stomach.

  In a futile attempt, she tried to shake the image from her mind. Even in her dream, his gaze flooded her with delight. She grimaced and pulled the covers up under her chin. Still, the tall man haunted her, followed her into her dreams.

  Long before the sun came into view, she dressed and pinned her hair on top of her head. She fitted the matching bonnet on top with a hatpin, packed her trunk, and stepped down the stairway.

  The desk clerk glanced at Zaidee. “Good morning, Miss Reese. Did you sleep well last night?” The lady dipped the pen in the ink to write in the register.

  It took a few seconds to remember she was now Flora Reese, unknown t
o all except herself. “Very well, thank you. Can you tell me when the stage going west arrives?” Zaidee peered around the room. She sucked in a deep breath and tried not to draw undue attention to herself. With a sigh of relief, she found herself safe from her accusers.

  “It should be here within an hour. Would you care for some breakfast? The restaurant is now open for the day.”

  “No, thank you. May I have my trunk brought to the stage depot?” A twitch began at the corner of her eye.

  With a chubby hand, the clerk reached for the bell on the corner of the desk. A tall, lanky kid appeared. “Take her trunk to the depot and be quick about it.” The clerk raised her hand to the boy violently.

  Zaidee looked at the boy as he took the stairs two at a time. He couldn’t be more than fourteen years old. Her trunk weighed more than he did. A strong desire to reprimand the clerk for threatening to strike the kid gave way to caution. There was no reason for her to show concern for the lad. An intermittent string of guilt and fury clashed in her soul at being in the situation in the first place.

  Zaidee glanced around, and she stiffened at the sound of footsteps drifting down the stairwell. The tall, dark-haired stranger from the riverboat appeared, dressed in black. She gasped.

  It was the man from the startling dream.

  Heat rose into her cheeks. She hoped he couldn’t read the intimate dreams from last night in her eyes. Her insides warmed as she held her breath, then released it when he glanced her way. A peculiar and wonderful calm settled her nerves. The stranger shocked her with his bold stares. She tried to dismiss him. His dark eyes were soft and kind, but she cautioned his nearness when he stepped up next to her.

  “Good morning, Joseph.” The clerk’s rough voice softened.

  “Good morning, Gloria, ma’am.” Joseph tipped his head at Zaidee. With a quick affirmation, she responded in kind.

  She shifted her gaze back to the clerk, thanked her, and all but darted from the room. Zaidee was well aware of the eyes on her back. Her composure wavered.

  Another deep breath of crisp, cool air, and she tiptoed across the muddy street to the stage depot, purchased her fare, and sat on a wooden bench in front. Shifting her gaze up and down the street, she searched for her pursuers. How long would this dreadful nightmare haunt her? How far did she have to travel to escape the threats following her?

  Waiting for the stage to take her to St. James Parish, Zaidee seethed. She needed to find a job and earn more money to take her farther away from North Carolina. She lowered her gaze to her fidgeting hands, chewed on her lip, and tried to muster encouragement. She found none in the wadded skirt clenched in her fingers.

  A dreadful shiver at the thought of prying eyes swept over her once more. She sat on the bench, rolling and twisting her purse strings. Zaidee scanned the rain-drenched streets and sidewalks. Anxious for the stage to arrive, she stood and paced in front of the depot. She took her seat again.

  The sound of heavy boots falling on the wooden walk startled her. Zaidee jerked her head in the direction of the noise. She recognized the man the clerk had called Joseph.

  Was he following her or was his presence an odd coincidence? The impact of his being there worked her uneasy mind into a flurry. Yet he was an exceptionally handsome stranger. Her heart spiraled at his nearness. A calamity of confusion and awe twisted her gut. She etched his image in her mind without questioning why.

  “Fine morning, isn’t it, ma’am?” His deep voice sent tingles over her skin. Why did he affect her this way? She didn’t know him, had never seen him until they were on the riverboat. His Louisiana accent settled her nerves a little. But she couldn’t find a reason to trust him.

  “Yes, sir.” Heat rose in her cheeks. She twisted her hands in the folds of her skirt then pretended to reposition her bonnet.

  “Where you headed?” He sat down next to her. His upturned lips invited her gaze to linger longer than proper. A pang of remorse nestled in her mind. There was no room to trust anyone at this point. Especially a stranger. Not until she moved farther away from North Carolina. Then it would still be a challenge.

  “St. James Parish.” Zaidee ducked her head, a flush crossing her face. She withheld “as far away from home as I can get” from the intriguing and too likeable Joseph.

  It wasn’t proper to look a man in the eyes the way she looked at him. She shivered and let herself contemplate being a wanton woman clenched tightly in his arms. She scanned his face and rested her gaze on his inviting lips. Just one taste, she tempted herself, and then pushed the thought aside. She had no right to encourage false hopes that Joseph could help and protect her.

  “Have you ever been there before?” He cocked his head, his wide-brim hat still in his hands, his brow furrowed. His gleaming white teeth enhanced his curved lips and the kindness harbored in his eyes.

  “No.” Zaidee moved away, feigning discomfort from the wooden bench. To ignore him would be rude. Oh, how she hated being forced into situations such as this to keep from being spotted by the murders.

  “Do you have kin there?” His curiosity showed in his gaze. Zaidee tried to hide her distress. Not wanting to appear rude or suspicious, she took a brief second to stop the urgent need to tell him to shut up and go away.

  “No, I heard they need teachers out West.” She tucked her hands under the folds of her long, full skirt. “So I decided to take a chance, and here I am.”

  “Do you have an appointment with anyone for a job?” His questions unsettled her. What prompted his need to interrogate her as if she were a common criminal? The trickles of panic threatened to reveal the true purpose of her travels.

  “No.” Her quiet voice fell a little more on the shy side.

  “Excuse me, ma’am.” Joseph stood and walked into the depot.

  Zaidee’s heart pounded. Her need to flee grew more intense; she stood, paced, and waited. She closed her eyes and prayed the stage would show up before the man discovered her real identity.

  She chided herself. There was no way he would know about her. He didn’t even know her name. Zaidee tried to talk her nerves down. A constant rumble stormed her chest.

  “Here, this is the name of my brother. He has five children, and he needs a teacher for them. I sent him a telegram advising him of your situation.” He handed her the paper.

  “But, sir, you don’t know my situation!” Mortified, she shuffled to conceal her anger. Who wants a liar to teach their children? Someone who deceives others into believing they are something they’re not. What kind of person would do that? Me.

  “I know you need a job. You just told me you had no appointment for any job. You’ll be in a strange place you don’t know. It’s not safe or proper for ladies to walk the streets of St. James alone.” A broad show of white teeth crossed his face. Joseph turned his head toward the approaching depot clerk.

  “Mr. Solomon, you have a telegram.” The clerk handed Joseph the message and stepped back. Joseph read the telegram and dismissed the clerk.

  “My brother asked me to bring you to his plantation. I noticed you traveled alone—where is your escort?” His proud and confident stance pulled her in as if she were a tiny fish at the end of a line.

  “We were separated when we boarded the riverboat. She’ll be along, and then we will travel to St. James together.” The lie festered in her soul. She silently begged forgiveness from above and returned to glancing up and down the street.

  “I cannot have you sitting in this place alone. You can leave a message for her upon her arrival to let her know where you’ll be staying.” Joseph reached for her arm.

  “I don’t know if that would be wise. I mean, thank you, but—” Zaidee could feel the heat rush to her face. Her heart sank. She was lying to a kind stranger for her own selfish reason, and she didn’t wish to involve children in her deceitful ways. That one act alone would be as cowardly as the men who hunted her.

  “I can assure you, miss, I’m an honorable and respectable gentleman. No one will harm you
as long as you’re in my company. My name is Joseph Solomon. I have a plantation on the other side of my brother’s, and it will be no problem to see you safely to his house.” Joseph bowed and tipped his hat.

  “My name is Flora Reese. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Solomon.” She hated using another name, but she couldn’t take the chance of her brother’s killers finding her. For now, she would have to remember her name was Flora.

  “Here comes the stage, Miss Reese. Will you accept my brother’s offer?”

  She had no choice in the matter. Joseph was right; she couldn’t wander the streets of a strange place alone. She needed a job, and if it didn’t work out, she would have the money to move farther west, as she planned to do anyway. Being obscure on a plantation would lessen the likelihood of discovery.

  Creaking wheels rolled up in front of them. A crowd gathered, setting an excited buzz in the air.

  On the spur of the moment, she was forced to make a decision. With one last glance and a quick prayer, she made up her mind to put a small amount of trust in Mr. Joseph Solomon.

  “Yes, I’ll meet with him and find out what’s expected of me. Please don’t be offended if I refuse his offer.” She fought the note of urgency in her reply. “Thank you, Mr. Solomon.”

  “Joseph, please call me Joseph.”

  “All right then, Joseph. I insist you call me Flora.” She stood to wait for the stage passengers to step out. She turned her back to avoid any possibility of being recognized. Pausing a few extra minutes to ensure all had exited and their luggage unloaded from the top, Zaidee peeked inside.

  “Miss Flora, would you like to board now? The drivers will be here in a short while. Maybe you would be more comfortable inside the stage. It appears another storm is on its way, and the rain may begin to fall any minute.” Joseph extended his hand to help her into the coach.

  “Yes, thank you. You’re too kind, sir.” She was happier to be out of view of new passengers who arrived at the depot. A breeze tussled the tips of his dark brown, collar-length hair. His mere presence was enough to stir unwanted emotions. The last thing she needed was to deal with her infatuation of a man she knew nothing about. Her skin came to life with goose bumps as she took his hand. She wondered if he felt the same sensation.