Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (20 page)

Some time later Mercy heard the creak of the door and sat up quickly.

“It’s me.”

Daniel’s voice came out of the darkness. Mercy was almost giddy with relief and lay back down on the bed as if she didn’t have the strength to sit up.

“Don’t light the candle.”

“It’s so dark in here that I couldn’t even find the candle if I wanted to.” She heard him stumble. “Christ! What’s this on the floor?”

“It’s the feather tick. I made a pallet for you. I knew you wouldn’t take the bed and let me have the pallet.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.”

“Daniel, someone was looking in the window.” She strained to keep the fear out of her voice.

“The hell there was! I thought it was too high.” His whispered voice was near. She held out her hand. When her fingers touched his trousers, she tugged on them and he sat down beside her. “Could you tell who it was?”

“No.”

“He had to be eight feet tall, or else he pulled up a barrel to stand on.” His hand found her arm, his fingers moving down to her wrist. “Are you still dressed?”

“Yes. I didn’t even take off my shoes. I’m scared in this place.”

Suddenly Daniel was kneeling down beside the bed. His fingers went into the thick, loose hair that lay on her shoulders, then moved up to her cheek and looped the heavy masses behind her ear.

“You don’t need to be scared.” His voice was the merest of whispers. “Go to sleep. I’m going to be right here with you. They’ve all gone to bed and I’ll be there by the door.”

“Will you hold me . . . for just a minute?” She couldn’t have kept the sob out of her voice if her life depended on it.

D
aniel’s arms went around her. His hand slid across her back beneath her hair, and he wrapped her in his arms. He gathered her to him gently, carefully, as if she were the most fragile thing in the world. He burrowed his face deep into the fragrance of her hair and abandoned himself to the heavenly feeling of having her in his arms. His heart was drumming so hard that he could scarcely breathe; his love was choking him. He breathed in the scent of lavender as his whole self hardened and trembled.

His desire for her was so great that for an instant he feared he would be unable to keep his arms from crushing her to him and his lips from saying the words that leaped to his mind.
I love you, love you
!
Ah, sweet woman, I love you
! Hair, soft as silk caught on his whiskered cheeks, and round, firm breasts pressed against his chest. His pretty childhood companion had grown into a beautiful woman and was bound to every sweet memory he could recall. Daniel felt his body reverberate with unspoken love.

In a daze of joy Mercy clung to him. She wondered if he loved her as a woman, or if he was fond of her because she was his foster Sister. Did she only imagine she felt his lips nuzzling her ear? In the warmth of his embrace, she longed to whisper that the love she felt for him was the all-consuming love of a woman for her man. She wanted to tell him to please take her as his mate, to join his body with hers, to plant the seeds of his children in her womb. What would he say? Would he be shocked? Disgusted by her boldness?

“Danny . . .” Mercy murmured, cuddling into him, pressing her face to his throat and moving her arm up to encircle his neck.

“Are you all right now?” he whispered. He settled himself more firmly on his haunches and moved a hand to cup the back of her head. His eyes closed, he felt the softness of her woman’s body, he breathed her woman’s scent, heard the little murmur of contentment that came from her lips. Several minutes passed before he heard her whisper.

“I’m all right . . . now.”

“I’ll be between you and anyone who tries to come in.”

“It’s always been that way.” Her voice grew throaty as she pulled her face away from his neck and her hand stroked his cheek. She was awash with a warm wave of tenderness and maternal protectiveness toward him. “Are you tired? You didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“I got enough. I’ll sleep with my back against the door. You’re not to worry.”

“I can’t imagine life without you, Danny.” The words came in a quivering voice.

“I can’t imagine life without you, either,” he said hoarsely.

“We were two little orphans. I . . . thought you the most wonderful boy in the world. You were my protector, friend, playmate. We played together, ate together, slept together. You were always calm, sensible, and made things right. I was your shadow, Mamma said.” Mercy lay very still after her whispered words, barely breathing.

“Yes . . .” Daniel clutched her to him in an almost crushing embrace and nestled his mouth below her ear. “It . . . was like that.”

“And here we are, grown up. I should be taking care of my own problems, and you’re still taking care of me.”

“Yes,” he said again, and sighed deeply.

“Do you resent me taking up so much of your time?” she asked against his neck.

In response, he held her even more tightly. “God! No! Whatever gave you that idea?”

“You’re a man with a lot of responsibilities.”

“I’m a man and I can do as I please. It pleases me to take care of you. Now, you’ve got to get some sleep and I’ve got to get over to the door. We don’t want any surprises.”

As Daniel gently eased her away from him, her arm fell from around his neck. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. His arms felt empty. He had no recollection of ever feeling quite so bereft. This yearning for her went beyond what he had known—that his feelings for her were fierce, consuming. Gnawing at the edge of his consciousness was the fear that she would be repulsed should she learn the depth of his love for her.

Mercy lay with her head pillowed on her arm. The room was pitch-dark, and she wondered how Daniel could see. She heard him move the feather tick over in front of the door, and that was the last sound she heard. She closed her eyes tightly, still feeling the warmth of his arms, the smell of his skin, and wished fervently that she had moved her lips along the column of his strong throat. She gritted her teeth, trying to fight down a wave of agonizing jealousy at the thought of Daniel holding Belinda in his arms. With her eyes tightly closed, she rejected the image. He was her love! Why had she not realized that before now?

*   *   *

When a hand touched her shoulder, she awakened immediately and blinked against the light of the candle.

“It’s almost dawn,” Daniel whispered.

“Already? It seems like only a few minutes have passed.”

Mercy sat up on the edge of the bed and looked around. The feather tick lay in a heap in the corner, and Daniel’s rifle was wedged against the door. She took her hairbrush from her carpetbag, smoothed the tangles from her hair, and quickly braided it into one long strand.

“I want to wait until there’s enough light to see before we leave. I’ll step outside the door while you . . . do whatever you need to do.” He saw her glance quickly toward the window, then back to meet his eyes. “I covered it before I lit the candle. You needn’t worry about someone spying on you.”

Daniel went to the door, removed the rifle, and, taking it with him, stepped out and closed the door. Mercy pulled the chamber pot from beneath the bed. She despised the tinkling sound she made when she relieved herself and prayed the noise could not be heard outside the room. When she finished, she covered the pot, shoved it out of sight, and went to tap gently on the door.

Daniel came in and went to the window. Pulling back a corner of the cloth he had used to cover the pane, he looked out. Dawn was streaking an overcast sky. There was a bank of rain clouds in the south. His eyes searched for a sign of Lenny or Bernie, but it was still too dark to see anything but the shape of the barn.

“We’ll wait a little while,” he whispered. “Get ready to leave and we’ll put out the candle so that our eyes will get used to the dark.”

Mercy put her shawl around her shoulders, closed her carpetbag, and set it on the floor beside her. Daniel hung his powder and shot bags around his neck, checked the load in the pistol, and thrust it into his belt. With rifle in hand he nodded for her to blow out the candle; the room was plunged into darkness.

Daniel removed the covering and stood beside the window. It was too high for Mercy to see out, but after her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, she could see the faint light of morning coming through the dirty glass windowpane. She stood silently waiting for Daniel to tell her when it was time to go. After what seemed to her an eternity of waiting, he left the window and came to her.

“Let’s go. Stay close to me.”

The door opened silently on its leather hinges. Daniel stepped out into the kitchen, looked around, and then, with Mercy close behind him, they went to the door and stepped out into the crisp morning. Mercy felt the throbbing beat of her pulse high in her throat, fluttering to her very ears. She sensed danger to her beloved. Her heart thumped as her eyes strained to penetrate the morning gloom. She was startled when a rooster crowed, proclaiming his dominance over the hens that came from their roosting places in the low brush near the barn to start their daily search for food.

Daniel headed for the barn, then stopped. To the south, beside the fenced enclosure, he saw the wagon. Zelda was hitched, and his buckskin was tied behind. There was no sign of Lenny or Bernie. With his hand holding Mercy’s elbow, he urged her toward the wagon, silently thanking the Baxter brothers because he would not have to take Mercy into the dark barn.

As they rounded the end of they log building, Daniel heard a whirling sound, followed by a dull thud, and then a grunt. He spun around, rifle up. On the ground not six feet behind him was a black-clad man sinking to his knees, then collapsing in a heap. Daniel moved the end of the barrel in an arc as he surveyed the area. Two familiar figures came silently out of the brush at the side of the barn and walked leisurely toward them.

Lenny pushed the man on the ground over with his foot. Blood oozed from his temple. It was the dark man who had sat across the table and stared at Mercy during the evening meal. He had a knife in his hand.

“I didn’t hear him,” Daniel said simply.

“Ya would’ve,” Bernie said. “He warn’t no good a-tall at sneakin’.”

Lenny squatted down beside the man on the ground. “It was a fair shot, Bernie, but a mite high.”

“’Twarn’t high a-tall. Three fingers above the ear be the best ta lay a man low.”

“What did you hit him with?” Daniel asked.

“With a rock.” Bernie held up a leather sling.

“Goddam you! You could have hit Mercy with that stone!”

“He was fixin’ to put a knife in yore back.”

Daniel glanced toward the brush, then back at the man on the ground. “That stone passed within a foot of her.”

“What’re ya so riled up fer? Bernie’s been knockin’ down squirrels with that sling since he was ass-high to a piss-ant. He warn’t goin’ to hit Sister.”

“Did he kill him?” Mercy asked.

“I’m not caring if he did or not.” Daniel urged her toward the wagon, took her bag from her hand, and flung it into the back. After he helped Mercy up onto the seat, he turned to the brothers. “I’m obliged to you . . . and for hitching up too. We’d better make tracks. He may not be the only cutthroat in this bunch.”

Daniel slapped the reins against Zelda’s back and they drove out of the yard. Out on the road they were soon rolling along at a steady pace. Mercy looked back to see the Baxters riding close behind the wagon, and she felt a surge of relief. She was reasonably sure now that they would back Daniel . . . at least until they got to Mud Creek.

*   *   *

During the early-morning hours they passed several travelers going north toward New Harmony. Daniel pulled the wagon to the side so they could pass. By mid-morning the slight breeze had blown the rain clouds away, and the sun came out. Mercy glanced from time to time at Daniel’s profile. Few words had passed between them since leaving the inn. They enjoyed a comfortable silence. He seemed to be wrapped in his own thoughts, and she in hers.

When they came to a small pond made from water that seeped out of a bluff, Daniel pulled Zelda to a stop.

“There’s good water here.” He watered the horses and held their water jug beneath the trickle that came from the rocks. The Baxters disappeared into the woods east of the road. After Mercy drank from the jug Daniel offered, she started to ease behind the screen of pines to the west to relieve herself. Daniel’s voice stopped her.

“Hold on, Mercy,” he said softly.

She turned questioning eyes to him when he came up close behind her, his rifle cradled in his arms, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I thought I heard something when we first pulled up. Let me go first,” Daniel added.

Mercy followed Daniel into the cool, dark shadows of the pine trees. She stayed close behind, trembling, scarcely daring to breathe, expecting any moment to hear some suspicious sound. She kept turning her head slowly, listening first in one direction and then another. About twenty paces from the road Daniel stopped so suddenly that she ran into him. She moved up beside him and saw a black face with huge eyes staring at them from behind a screen of cut cedar boughs.