Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (16 page)

D
aniel turned south at the river road, let Zelda have her head, and urged her into an even trot. The light vehicle moved smoothly over the hard-packed road that ran parallel with the river. At New Harmony they would take the ferry across the Wabash into Indiana and travel south into Kentucky. It was always cool and quiet along this part of the road except for the birds and squirrels.

The sun came up, sending streaks of brightness through the budding trees. The birches that mingled with the oak along the riverbank stood white and clean. The squirrels scampered among their branches. A mockingbird, swaying on a slender branch at the very top, trilled, and was scolded by a sassy bluejay from the sumac bush below.

Mercy didn’t look behind them, but she knew that Bernie and Lenny were following. Now and then she could hear Bernie’s voice raised in heated argument. Finally she heard Lenny telling him to hush his mouth, and he did.

The second seat in the light spring wagon had been removed to make room for Daniel’s saddle, his pack, Mercy’s carpetbag, a bag of grain, a covered basket, and a wooden box that held extra powder and shot, as well as tools. Daniel’s rifle, powder, and shot bags were within easy reach beneath the seat. The pistol was beside him.

Mercy leaned against the comfortable padded seat and was glad Daniel had insisted on bringing the wagon. She glanced at him. No words had passed between them for some time. He sat with one booted foot on the dash, his forearm on his thigh, the reins in his hands. He appeared to be deep in thought. She wondered if it was because they were nearing the Crawford homestead where Belinda Martin and her son lived with her parents.

An uneasiness crept into her mind that had nothing to do with the Baxters or the trip to Kentucky. It lingered there like a nagging toothache. Was Belinda Martin the type of woman Daniel would pick for a wife? Was he attracted to her plump, soft body, her cow eyes? A vision of Daniel with the widow in his arms suddenly appeared before Mercy’s eyes. Belinda’s arms were about his neck, and he was holding her, kissing her. Mercy’s heart began to pound with a frightening force, her face tingling with the heat of her jealousy. The hands in her lap gripped each other, as a bewildering complex of thoughts, each fleeting, merging into one another, filled her mind until one managed to stick, demanding an answer. Was she, Mercy Quill, in love with Daniel?

Her eyes were drawn to him. He was looking straight ahead. She glanced away quickly lest he look at her and read in her hot face what she was thinking. Mercy could feel the pulse in her throat, throbbing with each beat of her heart. She shifted in the seat so that her shoulder was no longer touching his as thoughts tumbled in and out of her mind. It was Mercy and Daniel, Daniel and Mercy, together . . . forever. That thought had begun to formulate in her mind, she realized now, when she saw him with Belinda Martin at the Humphrey barn-raising and had gathered strength when she saw him with Belinda’s son perched on his shoulder. That was long before the Baxters had accused them of having more than a brother-sister relationship.

Of course, she was in love with him
!

At first she loved Daniel as a younger Sister loves an older brother. Now, she realized, a corner of her heart that had never been filled was suddenly overflowing with a different kind of love. She loved him as a woman loves the man with whom she wants to mate, have children, share life. Dear God, how did this happen? She must be careful, very careful. Daniel must not know how she felt about him until she was sure he felt more than brotherly love for her. Her heart shook with apprehension. Years of habit were hard to break. He had always been so protective of her. She was certain that he would sacrifice his own happiness before he would hurt her. But she didn’t want him that way! She wanted him to love her as Papa had loved Mamma all these years, as if his life would not be complete without her.

She dared another look at him. He was so dear to her! She knew every line in his face, the dent in his chin, the way his hair grew back from his forehead. She knew what he liked to eat, the clothes he liked to wear, his feelings about politics, justice, slavery. He was a man of integrity and occasional violence. He was not a bully, but when he was pushed, he enjoyed the fight. He seemed to get some kind of satisfaction out of the combat.

Her thoughts shifted to how absolutely handsome he was. A shiver of pure physical awareness ran down her spine. Unconscious of time or place, she stared at his profile as if she had not seen it before.

He turned his head slowly; their eyes caught and held. She saw the question in those deep, beautiful brown eyes. Her blue ones lost themselves in their dark, velvety depths, and she seemed to be filled with a warmth and completeness that was new to her.

“What are you thinking when you look at me like that?” he said softly, breaking into her thoughts.

Ten seconds passed while Mercy drew a shallow breath, followed by a deeper one. She had a mad impulse to move close to him, grab his arm, and hug it to her.

“I was thinking that you have beautiful eyes. It’s no wonder Belinda is in love with you.”

‘Who says she is?”

“She would be crazy not to be.”

“That so?”

He turned his eyes away. Mercy wished fervently she had not mentioned Belinda and vowed not to do so again. The thought of him and the widow ravaged her, sending a shiver of dread down her spine.

“Speaking of Belinda,” Daniel was saying, “there she is. We’ll have to stop now that she’s seen us.”

“Yes, of course.” A feeling of misery and loneliness washed over Mercy like a rolling tide.

Belinda Martin stepped off the porch and walked out to the road when Daniel stopped the wagon. Her young son raced ahead of her, his small, freckled face wreathed in smiles.

“Mr. Phelps!” the boy squealed. “Are you comin’ to see Ma?” he asked hopefully. “Is them men with ya? Ma cooked a pie.”

“Hello, Homer.” Daniel handed the reins to Mercy and got down off the wagon.

“He knew it was you,” Belinda said, tucking stray wisps of hair into the loose knot at the nape of her neck. “And he hasn’t seen you in this wagon before.” Her eyes remained on Daniel’s face for a long while, then she glanced up at Mercy. “Hello, Mercy.”

“Hello, Belinda.”

“I heard that school has been dismissed for the year,” she said, her eyes leaving Mercy to glance behind the wagon at the two men on the mules. Lenny and Bernie had stopped a short distance behind them. They sat watching while their mules cropped the grass alongside the road.

“Yes,” Mercy answered. There seemed to be nothing else to say. She had no doubt Belinda had heard the whole story from the Knibees. Now she would have something to add to the gossip, she thought, looking down into the pretty face of the widow. Belinda turned from Mercy, dismissing her. She was looking up at Daniel as if he were the sun and the moon, Mercy thought, feeling irritation and trying to ignore the fluttering sensation dancing in her stomach.

“Homer was talking about you only this morning, Daniel. He was wondering when you would be coming out again.”

Daniel ruffled the hair on the top of the boy’s head. “He was thinking about that sweet tooth of his.” He reached into his shirt pocket and brought out a small, paper-wrapped package. “Here you are, squirt. Here’s the sugarhards you’re so fond of.”

“Oh, Daniel! You shouldn’t have,” Belinda gushed. “You’re spoiling him!”

“It’ll take more than a few sugarhards to spoil him.” He smiled down at the boy and chuckled when the child unrolled the paper and a piece of the confection fell into the dirt. Homer picked it up quickly, wiped each side on his shirt sleeve, and put it into his mouth, looking up at Daniel with a snaggle toothed smile.

“Are you taking your Sister to Vandalia?” Belinda asked.

“Vandalia is to the west of here. No. Mercy and I are going to Kentucky.” Daniel started to the back of the wagon, then paused and looked up at Mercy. “I’ll ride Buck if you’ll drive for a while. It’ll lighten up the load for Zelda.”

Mercy nodded and moved to the middle of the seat.

“Will you be gone long?” Belinda moved along the wagon box to where Daniel was lifting his saddle from the back.

“We’re not sure. I left a penny with Mike, Homer. The next time you’re in the store, he’ll give you a penny’s worth of licorice.”

“What do you say, Homer?” Belinda prompted.

“Gee! Thanks, Mr. Phelps!”

Mercy could almost, but not quite, feel sorry for Belinda. She was so anxious to make conversation with Daniel, and he was making it difficult for her. Mercy wondered if he was uncomfortable because she was along. Belinda’s next low-voiced question wiped all pity from Mercy’s heart.

“Is it true that Mercy’s . . . kinfolk have come to claim her? Are you taking her to them?”

“Why don’t you ask Mercy?”

“Well . . . I don’t want to . . . embarrass her.”

“Why would it embarrass her?”

“Oh, you know. I’d be embarrassed enough to die to have people know
they
were related to
me.
”

“I don’t see why. They haven’t stolen anything or harmed anyone. If they had a bath, clean clothes, and were riding good horses, you’d think differently about them.” Daniel detached Buck’s lead rope from the wagon and threw the saddle over the back of the buckskin while he was talking.

“No, I wouldn’t. I’d still be able to tell what they were,” Belinda murmured, loud enough that the words carried to Mercy.

“And what is that?”

Irrationally Mercy felt angry at Daniel, as well as at Belinda, for talking about her and the Baxters as if they weren’t there. Her anger ignited into full-fledged rage after she heard Belinda’s next comment.

“Trash. Breeding tells, Daniel. Everyone knows that. Oh, I feel so sorry for poor Mercy.”

How dare that . . . dumpling of a woman pity her! Mercy was painfully aware that her temper was about to explode all over Belinda Martin. The man-hungry bitch had no right to say that about Lenny and Bernie. They had done nothing to her. They had not even come close to her. Completely unaware that a part of her anger was due to a remote sense of loyalty to the two brothers, Mercy breathed deeply and gave herself a full moment to pull herself together.

“Daniel,” she called in a carefully controlled voice. “I’ll go on and give Belinda a chance to visit with you . . . alone. I’m sure that’s what she’s hoping for. She wants to know about my trashy kinfolk. You can tell her all about them and why we’re making this trip.” Her voice rose at the last in spite of her determination to stay calm. “’Bye, Belinda,” she called with drippy sweetness and slapped the reins against Zelda’s back with such force that the mare was startled. The wagon lurched forward, creaked, moved quickly, and Mercy fervently hoped the wheel would run over Belinda’s foot.

“’Bye.” Belinda’s voice barely reached her. “Have a good trip.”

“You’re darn right I’ll have a good trip, you . . . soft, sweet-smelling, little butterball,” Mercy muttered. “I just bet my last button you’d give your front teeth to be going on a trip with Daniel. It will never happen, Mrs. Uppity Martin. You’ll not use his love for children to get your claws in Daniel. It’s taken me a long time to realize it, but he’s mine, and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep him.”

Not five minutes later, although it seemed an hour to Mercy, Daniel rode past the wagon and took the lead to set the pace. He didn’t look at her or speak. He was angry.

Yesterday she would have merely regretted angering him. Today it devastated her.

*   *   *

On another road in southern Indiana, another wagon was headed east, pulled by a team of tired horses. Levi Coffin, the Quaker, sat on the wagon seat, the noonday sun beating down on his dusty black coat and his high-topped hat. He pulled out his pocket watch, opened it and checked the time, replaced it, and calmly stared off down the road. He figured that he should be hearing hoofbeats behind him at almost any time—that is, if Daniel Phelps had been able to draw Hammond Perry off the trail of the woman and babe.

Good man, Phelps, Levi mused. Farr Quill had done a good job raising him. There was not a more respected man in the state than Quill. He was badly needed in the legislature if they were going to keep Illinois a slave-free state. Concessions had already been made to allow a slave owner to come into the state to look for fugitives. If found, the owner was allowed to take them back over the state line.

Phelps was following along in his stepfather’s footsteps. He was building a reputation that someday would equal that of Farrway Quill. He was becoming known as a man of high principles, totally trustworthy, and dedicated to a cause if he considered it right. Levi and Daniel had met only one other time in Evansville, but Levi knew about the place called Sugar Tree and that at least a dozen people had passed through it on their way to the North and freedom.

Levi wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief that once had been white. The road was passing through the rocky bed of a creek. Levi pulled up on the reins and stopped the horses so they could drink. He had business south. Soon he would be forced to turn north to make it appear that he was headed for Newport. John Ingle, a settler a few miles back with whom he had spent the night, had said that this was a dangerous road. Travelers were often waylaid and robbed. He wished Perry would catch up if he were going to.

The thought was no more than completed in his mind when he heard the sound of hoofbeats on the road behind him. Levi turned to see a group of horseman galloping toward him. He urged the horses up out of the stream and on down the dusty road. Levi thought of what John Ingle had told him and prayed a silent prayer. The last house he had passed was several miles back, and according to Ingle, it was a good ten miles to the next one. Of course, there was a chance this was not a band of robbers or Hammond Perry. A glance behind him told him it was Perry.

“Hold up!” Hammond Perry came alongside the wagon. He spoke in a commanding tone as if he were leading a military patrol.