Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 03] (25 page)

“He’s got ever’thin’, Ma. All his little fingers and toes. Two ears. Two eyes. Ever’thin’.” Aee held the baby so her mother could see him. “Look at the hair, Ma. He’s fat as a little pig. Pa’ll be fit t’ be tied when he sees ’im. I’ll wash ’im up before we call him.”

Yellow Corn’s mumbles had become louder with the baby’s birth. The women ignored her. Bee helped her mother to slip into a clean nightdress and get into the bed. Then she tenderly washed her face and neck with a wet cloth.

“You done good. Both of you.”

Maggie was unable to take her eyes off the baby. It was red as a beet and had a head of thick black hair. It reminded her of a newborn cat or rabbit. She thought it the ugliest thing she had ever seen, but she kept her opinion to herself when she saw how proud Aee and Bee were of their new brother.

“What will you name him?” Maggie asked.

“Eff, of course.” Aee laughed. “But we’ll call him Frank.” Aee finished greasing the baby, wrapped him in the cotton cloth and carried him to their mother. “He looks like a boy, don’t he, Ma?”

“He sure does. My, he has big hands. Just like Mr. Mac. You’d better call him, Aee. You know what a worrier he is when it comes to the family.”

Aee opened the door. “Pa,” she called. “Ma said t’ come see Frank.”

A whoop went up. Then it seemed to Aee that a swarm of men were at the door. Paul was slapping her Pa on the back. Everyone was smiling: Light, the Vega men, Paul and even Eli Nielson. Behind them, Linus’s and Caleb’s faces shone with happiness. Caleb held Zee up so he could see. The younger girls crowded into the room.

“Ya can’t all come in. Just Pa for now.”

“Can we come?” Cee, Dee and Eee yelled in chorus.

“If yo’re quiet. Somebody better be watchin’ out for that German.” She looked directly at Eli. “He might come bustin’ in while yo’re lollygaggin’ ’round doin’ nothin’.” She tilted her chin and turned her back.

Eli swore under his breath.

The birth of MacMillan’s son was cause for a celebration. The morning after the birth, the happy homesteader announced that there would be no work this day and that they would have a feast the following day.

Immediately after the announcement Light and Maggie slipped away from the homestead. When they returned several hours later, a small deer was draped across Light’s shoulders. He hung it to a tree limb behind the house and carefully skinned it. The soft pelt, when cured, would go to line the newborn’s crib, and the meat would be roasted for the feast.

Caleb brought in a goose all plucked, dressed, singed and ready for the spit. Not to be outdone, Linus caught a mud turtle the size of a washtub. He dressed it out and laid aside large chunks of white meat to boil for meat pies.

Before noon, Many Spots arrived to take Yellow Corn home. Later he returned with a wild turkey for the feast and the pelt from a young raccoon and a cradleboard for the new son. He dropped them on the ground in front of the door and, with a wild whoop that woke the sleeping babe, rode away.

Eli and Paul brought from their cargo a sack of milled flour, a sack of coffee beans, and a length of printed cloth for Mrs. MacMillan.

Pumpkin was cooked, pies were made, onions, potatoes and turnips readied for meat pies. Mrs. MacMillan, holding her new son, directed the girls. Even the youngest one had something to do. Zee was brought into the house. The bandage was taken from his leg so Mrs. Mac could inspect the wound. She praised Aee for the job she had done, and Zee was allowed to sit at the table and crack nuts for the pumpkin cake.

Bodkin and Dixon, eager to participate, chopped wood and kept the fires going, glad to be a part of the celebration, but aware that they were constantly being watched. They could not blame the homesteader for being cautious.

During the afternoon, Bodkin showed MacMillan how his pa in the Tennessee hill country made an outdoor oven by poking strong but limber willow sticks in the ground in a circle the size of a washtub. He brought the other ends together at the top and tied them to form a small dome-shaped hut. Leaving a small hole in the top, he covered the frame with several inches of mud brought up from the river in buckets. A slow fire inside dried the mud to brick hardness. By morning the oven would be ready to roast the turkey or the goose.

In spite of the festive mood, watchful eyes scanned the edge of the woods for a sign of Otto Kruger. MacMillan had considered speaking to Many Spots about him. He and the Osage warriors would search the woods until they found him or a sign that he had gone on downriver, where they hoped the Delaware would take him. After what had been done to Zee, MacMillan was certain the Osage would not merely kill Kruger but would torture him to death, and the sound of his screams and the smell of burning flesh would mar the celebration. He decided to wait another day.

It was Eli who encountered the crazed German in an unexpected place.

Since Aee had referred to Eli as a cadger, resentment had gnawed at him. He had paid his way since he had been twelve years old and had never begged a crumb from anyone. He had intended to leave a bag of tobacco with MacMillan when they left but decided to give it to him now after first shoving it in the face of his mouthy daughter.

When it was thought that Vega would attack the homestead, Eli’s keelboat had been poled up the creek, where it was anchored amid thick willows. The instant Eli stepped on the boat he knew someone else was there. He pulled the pistol from his belt.

Kruger came from inside the shed. He stood with his back to the door, his balled fists on his hips. He was dirty, his shirt ragged. His bald head had deep bloody scratches, Eli presumed from going through the blackberry briars when he ran from Light. The eyes that stared out of the whiskered face were hate-filled and feverish.

“What are you doing here, Otto?”

“’Tis
mein
boat.”

“You sold it to me to pay your debts in St. Louis.”

“
Mein
boat!”

“You’ll find no weapons here.”

“Viskey—”

“No whiskey or gunpowder. You stole two kegs of my gunpowder and took them to the pirate.”

Kruger shrugged. “He iss gone.”

“Why didn’t you go with him?”

“He leaf me. I come back to
mein
boat.”

“You’re no longer a member of my crew. You deserted. I could shoot you for that. If MacMillan sees you, he
will
shoot you for what you did to the little fellow.”

“Baa!” Kruger snorted. “I did not do it.”

“You stood by and let others do it. It’s the same thing.”

“I kill no one! The breed kill!”

“You were bringing those river rats to kill him and take his wife.”

“She
mein
voman!” Kruger pounded his chest with his fist.

“You stupid son of a bitch! You’ve lost your senses.”

“He vill gif me
mein
voman or I kill him.”

“You had your chance. Four of you came to kill him. You didn’t even get to the homestead.” Eli had a sudden, unwelcome feeling of pride in Baptiste Lightbody.

As Kruger took a step toward him, Eli could almost feel the heat of his hatred. Waiting for the next move, he knew he had one shot to stop Kruger if he attacked him. Still weakened from the fever, he was aware that he would be no match for the crazed German should it come to a hand-to-hand fight.

Otto had been irritable since leaving St. Louis. He had been unable to cope with the fact that he’d had to sell his boat to meet his debts or else be killed. That he should blame Eli and Paul for his troubles showed his unreasonable state of mind. His irrational behavior had escalated after they had met up with Light and Maggie, and Otto had focused his anger on them.

“Take a canoe and go on back downriver, Otto. I don’t want to see you killed.”

“I stay here on
mein
boat.”

“Gawddammit! You can’t stay here. If MacMillan doesn’t kill you, Lightbody will.”

“Vat you care? You vid them.”

“Hell yes, I’m with them. What did you expect?”

“I vant food.”

“Take the Vega canoe. It’s at the dock. Also the one you stole when you deserted.”

“Ya tink I don’ know dat?”

“There’s a bag of dried meat and one of raisins in the shed. Take what you’ll need. You can catch fish and find duck eggs along the riverbanks. You’ll not starve.”

Kruger said nothing. Eli held the pistol steady.

A smile tilted Kruger’s full lips as he backed into the shed. Out of sight, he reached behind him and removed the large blade he had tucked in the back of his belt when he heard Eli step onto the boat. He had hidden the knife in the shed weeks ago when he began to realize the Swede and the Frenchman were plotting against him.

A crafty gleam lit Kruger’s eyes. He smiled as he hurriedly stuffed a bag with food, then took what tools he wanted: a hammer/hatchet, a saw, a handful of square nails and a length of rope. He wrapped them and the knife in a blanket. That done, he hid a prying tool behind the loose board where he had hidden the knife just in case the Swede decided to take all the tools off the boat before he could come back.

Kruger came out of the shed, walked past Eli without a look or a word, and jumped off the boat. Eli stepped into the shed, hoisted the bag of tobacco to his shoulder and followed Otto to the docks. He watched him throw his bundle into the canoe, step in and take up a paddle.

Eli walked along the bank until Kruger reached the river and disappeared behind the high bank before he stuck his pistol in his belt and turned back toward the homestead.

Kruger lingered behind the bank for a short while, then turned the canoe around and paddled furiously upriver.

*  *  *

Toward evening Eli took Paul aside and told him about the encounter with Otto.

“
Mon Dieu,
Eli. He’s lost his wits. You shouldn’t have let him go.”

“Do you think I should have shot him? He’s killed no one that I know of.”

“He was bringing Vega’s men to get Maggie. Not only did Light hear them say that, Zee told MacMillan.”

“They didn’t succeed.”

If Light hadn’t found them they would have killed Zee and come here thinkin’ to sneak up on Light. Maggie could have been killed.”

“I couldn’t just shoot him down, Paul. I would’ve if he had made a move toward me, but he didn’t.”

“Is he gone for good?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Strong as he is, and in the birch-bark canoe with a strong current, he should make forty or fifty miles a day going downriver if he really wants to get back to St. Louis. He may be able to get past the Delaware.”

“He might catch up with Vega.”

“Hellfire! He should know by now that the man can’t be trusted.” Eli’s eyes strayed past Paul and followed Aee as she carried a bucket from the house to the barn.

Paul saw the interest in his friend’s eyes as he looked at the MacMillan girl, and an idea began to form.

Eli looked back at his friend. “It worries me that Otto speaks of Maggie as his woman. That proves that he’s crazy in the head.”

“Ho!” Paul took the pipe from his mouth and knocked the ashes out of the bowl by hitting it on the sole of his boot. “Can you blame him for wanting the lass,
mon ami?
Are you not sweet on her yourself?”

Eli’s mouth snapped shut and his eyes hardened. He was quiet for a minute before he spoke.

“I
like
her. I don’t believe she should traipse off into the wilderness with Lightbody. His life could be snuffed out with a shot, an arrow, a snake bite. She’d be alone.”

“Do you have it in your mind to
traipse
after them?” Paul asked in a voice flat with disapproval. When Eli didn’t answer, he said, “Hire Dixon and Bodkin and let’s go on up to the Bluffs. Another couple of months and they’ll be iced in up there.”

“MacMillan said we’d have no trouble getting back downriver. In the spring trappers want to bring down their furs.”

“We’ve still got to get
up
there,
mon ami.
”

“Light plans to go a hundred miles upriver and cut across the plains to the mountains.”

“Have you not seen all of Lightbody you want to see?” Paul asked gently.

“I don’t know,” Eli answered honestly.

“His life is separate from yours, Eli. He has his values and you have yours.”

“His is a savage way of life. Not fit for—”

Paul held his hand up. “What has he done that you would not have done under the same circumstances? He has killed, yes. He has strong instincts of self-preservation. Can you blame him for that?”

“Why are you always defending him?”

“Why are you so against him? He has done nothing to you, taken nothing from you.”

“I say he has.”

“Eli, be reasonable—”

The conversation was abruptly halted when MacMillan approached with a jug of whiskey and a tin cup, but it had given Paul a further cause to worry about his friend and his fascination with Baptiste Lightbody’s wife.

“It is rare that we have cause to celebrate or good friends to celebrate with.” MacMillan was in high spirits. “Let’s drink a toast to F. Frank MacMillan.”