Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (34 page)

“I thank you for coming to get me, Lenny. You, too, Bernie,” Mercy said. “I want you to know that I’m glad I came, and I’m sorry I gave you so much trouble at first. It was such a shock to me to know I had a family, and I didn’t understand your need to hurry back here.” She turned and went to the wagon when they didn’t speak.

“Me ’n’ Wyatt had no idee there was hard feelin’s twixt you and the boys,” Hod said.

Daniel took out his handkerchief and wiped the blood from his knuckles. “It’s settled.”

“We been figgerin’ on them seein’ ya back home. We ain’t likin’ ya bein’ on the road by yoreself in these troubled times of robbers ’n’ runaway niggers.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Daniel said, and helped Mercy up onto the wagon seat.

“They be robbers aplenty travelin’ the roads. These be hard times, Dan’l. They’ll slit yore throat fer a fancy wagon ’n’ a good horse.” Wyatt spoke as Daniel came around to check Zelda’s harness and adjust the cheek straps.

“I’ll not be caught unaware, Wyatt,” Daniel said, and held out his hand. “No hard feelings about that?” He jerked his head toward Bernie and Lenny.

Wyatt grinned. “Glad it warn’t me. Ya pack a wallop.”

“You, Hod?” Daniel asked.

“Not if’n they had it comin’, ’n’ I reckon they did. I’m thinkin’ yore a fair man.”

“Thank you for that. I’ll take care of your Sister, just as I promised your mother.”

“I figger ya can do it.”

“Come back,” Dora yelled when Daniel was settled in the seat.

“’Bye,” Mercy called.

Daniel flicked the reins, and Zelda moved briskly out onto the track leading away from the homestead. Mercy looked back and waved to the group in the yard. She looked back once again before they reached the timber. Hod and Wyatt stood with their wives and Gideon. There was no sign of Lenny or Bernie.

“It’s going to be a dandy day, just like Cousin Farley said.” Mercy smiled at Daniel, removed her bonnet, and loosened the shawl from around her shoulders.

Daniel grinned back. “He’s a wiry old coot, even if he can’t hear himself think. He rode that horse out of the yard as if the devil were after him.”

“Maybe he was.” Mercy’s laughter was a tinkling, musical sound that drew his eyes to her face again.

“Are you glad to be going home?” Daniel knew she was but wanted to hear her say it.

“Oh, yes. Aren’t you?”

“You bet!” After a while he said, “I liked them. I didn’t think I would, but I did.”

“So did I.”

Along the trail, the brush was beginning to flower. Mercy breathed deeply of the sweet, warm air and felt her spirits soar. They splashed across the shallow rock-bottomed creek that curled behind the Baxter homestead, and Zelda, happy to be on the trail, moved briskly on up the track.

Mercy’s gaze strayed over to Daniel. She loved the rugged planes of his face and the hole in the middle of his chin. He had the most beautiful eyes beneath the straight black brows, and when he smiled, as he had just done, they wrinkled at the corners. Her eyes went to his hands—they were long, slender, and strong. Her body quivered at the thought of them on her naked flesh. He was her husband, and he had every right to touch her breasts, to touch any of her secret places if he wanted to. Oh, she hoped that he wanted to make her his mate in every way. Her heart began to race at the thought of what could happen during the night to come.

Daniel glanced at Mercy for what seemed to him the hundredth time since they’d left the Baxter homestead. This was what he had been waiting for. He had her all to himself, but how was he going to bring up the subject of their marriage? He couldn’t just ask her if she loved him and wanted to stay married to him. She would say that she did out of gratitude, if it was what she thought he wanted to hear. He had to know if she
loved
him as a wife loved her husband, as Liberty Quill loved Farrway Quill, as Eleanor loved Gavin, as Amy loved Rain Tallman.

Rain and Amy lived in the Arkansas Territory, twenty miles from their nearest neighbors. Months went by when Amy didn’t see another human being but Rain and their two boys. It was enough for Amy; she loved Rain that much.

Daniel had to force himself to look away from the woman beside him. Once he had taken her sweet body, there would be no turning back. He had to be sure that she wanted him and no other for the rest of her life before he dared to claim her as his own. Daniel began to wonder how she would feel warm and naked in his arms, her mouth and her body open to him. Would she be repulsed by the act of mating with him? From what he had heard, most women didn’t like it. The few men who had women who enjoyed that part of their married life didn’t talk about it. Good Lord! He had to stop thinking about her.

With doglike determination Daniel began to concentrate on the terrain, the curve in the trail ahead, the bushes along the track that could conceal a man. He didn’t think there was much of a chance they would be jumped this close to the Baxter homestead, but he must be vigilant. A frown settled on his face, and his hands tightened on the reins as the thought of some unknown danger threatening Mercy flashed through his mind. He glanced at her. Her head was tilted, and she was smiling as she watched a hawk soar in the sky. His whole body yearned to hold her and tell her of his dreams.

Mercy didn’t think she had ever been happier than she was at this moment. It was a beautiful, cloudless day; she was alone with Daniel, her love, and they were going home. Up ahead, through the trees, was the cabin where they had been married. Looking back on that day, she decided that it was not so terrible an experience as she thought it was at the time. Even the snake Bernie used to frighten her didn’t seem to be as deadly as it had then. As they passed the cabin Daniel looked over at her and smiled as if he knew what she was thinking.

Later, when he took the reins in his left hand, flexed the fingers of his right, and flattened his palm on his thigh, she took his hand in hers and gently ran her fingertips over his cut knuckles.

“You had to hit them, didn’t you? I had almost forgotten that you said you were going to.”

“I hadn’t forgotten. If the damn fools had let that snake bite you, I would have killed someone.”

“Did you see the surprised look on Bernie’s face after you hit him?” Mercy’s musical laugh floated away on the breeze.

“I was too busy aiming my other fist at Lenny’s mouth.”

“It happened so fast that Hod and Wyatt were stunned.”

“Lenny and Bernie didn’t want Hod and Wyatt to know what they had done.” Daniel chuckled. “Lenny fairly sagged with relief when Cousin Farley rode out.”

“Why do you suppose they did it? Right from the start they were angry because you stayed the night in the house with me. They couldn’t have thought that I was a . . . a loose woman.”

“After seeing the way they regarded Gideon’s adventures, I think what they couldn’t believe was that I hadn’t taken advantage of you.” Daniel looked into her eyes and just barely stopped himself from saying, “Not that I didn’t want to.”

“Adventures! I think Gideon’s
adventures
are disgraceful.”

“They don’t think so.”

“I realize that it would have been difficult to explain our . . . relationship to Hod and Wyatt. They took it for granted right from the start that you and I were—that you were my husband. So did my mother.”

“They would have been as put out as Lenny and Bernie if we had told them differently,” Daniel said thoughtfully.

“Daniel,” Mercy said, and giggled, “let me see your eyes. I didn’t know that you could tell if a man was a providing man by how close his eyes were set together.”

Watching as laughter burst from her lips, Daniel laughed, too—a deep, rumbling, uncontrollable sound that he hadn’t heard for so long, it almost startled him.

“Your mother was a smart woman,” he said, focusing his gaze on the trail ahead. The urge was on him to hold her against him, nuzzle her ear with his nose, taste the sweetness of her full, smiling lips.

At mid-morning Daniel stopped in an open place near a clump of bushes where he could see for a good distance in all directions.

“We’ll rest the horses for a half hour, and you can walk a bit and stretch your legs.”

He had been thinking about the warning Hod had given about robbers along the trail. He knew that from now until they reached home, he would have to be on his guard. He was reluctant to worry Mercy about it, but sooner or later he would have to tell her about the possible dangers.

She jumped down from the wagon, stretched wearily, and headed for the bushes, welcoming the privacy they afforded. When she returned to the wagon, Daniel was waiting with a cup of water in his hand. She drank it gratefully and smiled her thanks.

“We’re making good time, aren’t we?” She handed him the cup. He refilled it and offered it to her. When she shook her head, he lifted it to his lips and emptied it.

“Yes. Coon Hollow isn’t far from here. We’ll stop there and eat.” He looked at the sun. “We’ll not make it by noon. Think you can hold out for another three hours?”

“Sure, but can Zelda?”

“I’m sure she can. It’s downhill going.” After they had started up again, Daniel said, “I’ll ride Buck this afternoon. It’ll lighten up the load for Zelda.” He didn’t add that he would be in a better position to watch ahead and behind if he was on horseback.

They heard the clang of the blacksmith hammer as they came into Coon Hollow. The dogs raced out to yip and snarl, and chickens ran squawking because their hunt for food had been interrupted. The blacksmith paused and nodded as they passed. A woman with a basket on her arm stopped and stared. Daniel tipped his hat politely, then looked over at Mercy.

“Is there anything you want at the store?”

“I can’t think of anything.”

“We need to stop at the livery and buy grain for the horses. Then we’ll go on out of town and eat down by the creek.”

While Mercy waited on the wagon seat for Daniel to come out of the livery, her eyes wandered over the town. She was glad they would not be spending the night here. The building with the sign that said
BED AND EATS
looked to be one of those small inns that had only one dormitory-type sleeping room. She would much rather she and Daniel camp out in the open.

The thump of the grain sack in the back of the wagon told her that Daniel had returned. The liveryman stood in the door and watched as Daniel climbed up on the seat and slapped Zelda into motion.

“The man was a damned robber,” Daniel said disgustedly. “I could have bought three bags of grain in Evansville for what that one cost.”

“He probably thought you’d never be by this way again.”

“If I am, I’ll know where not to stop,” Daniel growled.

Half a mile out of town, he pulled off the trail and stopped beneath an oak. He immediately unhooked Zelda from the wagon and began to rub her down. After that he led her to water, filled a feed bag, and slipped it over her head. Mercy walked down to the creek, relieved her aching bladder, then washed her face and hands. Daniel passed her, leading his buckskin, as she returned to the wagon. She had the food box open, and meat and bread laid out when he returned. He took off his hat, finger-combed his hair, and took from her hand the bread and meat. They stood at the end of the wagon and ate in silence. He poured water from the jug and they drank from the same cup.

Mercy was surprised to discover that she was shy with Daniel, the man she had been with almost every day of her life until a few years ago. She found herself perspiring with nervousness. Why didn’t he say something? She had turned to see him darting glances at her, but he hadn’t said half a dozen words since they stopped to eat. Mercy wondered if he was getting tired of her company. She knew that he was eager to get home. Turning away to hide her face, she forced from her mind the thought that his feelings for her were the same as they had been when she was a child—that he was still taking care of her as he had then. She remembered hearing Liberty Quill say that there was nothing more agonizing or embarrassing than unrequited love. She was going to have to be careful not to let her feelings for Daniel be an embarrassment to him.

A sigh escaped Daniel’s lips. Being constantly on guard with Mercy took more energy than lifting heavy sacks of grain all day. Now, as he watched her, he instinctively sensed a fawnlike unease she had not shown before. Was it because they were alone? She began to repack the food box. When she flicked a glance at him, there was none of the warmth in her eyes he had seen that morning. He wanted that warmth, needed it desperately.

“We’ll have enough meat and bread for supper,” Mercy said as she repacked the food box.

Daniel saddled the buckskin before he hitched Zelda to the wagon. He checked the lead in his rifle and in the pistol. He put the rifle in the scabbard attached to the saddle and placed the pistol under the wagon seat. Mercy glanced at him. His brows were drawn together as if in deep concentration. She climbed up onto the wagon seat and waited for him to mount and come up alongside.

“I’ll be right ahead of you. If there are times you don’t see me, don’t worry, because I’ll be able to see you.”

Mercy nodded. She looked into his eyes and was startled by the tenderness she saw there. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, but she didn’t know what she wanted to say, anyway.

Zelda followed the buckskin. The track crossed the creek and cut through a thick stand of spruce and pine. They came out into an open meadow. The sky overhead was clear blue, with a few puffy white clouds rolling lazily along on a slight breeze. The long, magnificent sweep of landscape was green, glistening in the afternoon sun, providing a vivid contrast to the blue sky above.

A two-wheeled cart came toward them from the other end of the meadow. Daniel slowed the buckskin until he was riding alongside Zelda. Mercy watched the cart approach, saw a man, a woman in a stiff-brimmed sunbonnet, and a child in the cart. She pulled Zelda to the side so the cart could pass.

“Howdy.” The man who spoke had long, unkempt whiskers, and the woman’s face was brown and wrinkled from long hours in the sun.

Mercy nodded and smiled but received no answering smile from the woman or the child.