Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (39 page)

“You didn’t seem to mind the bed last night,” she said teasing.

“My feet hung over the end. Didn’t you notice?”

“No! And I don’t think you did, either.”

Their eyes caught and held, and they smiled. He grasped her hand, placed it on his thigh, and covered it with his.

As they passed through town the streets were empty except for an occasional dray wagon or a traveler headed for the ferry. They passed the store where Daniel had bought her the dress goods. The white-aproned proprietor was sweeping the porch. He raised his hand in recognition as they passed. In the open, Zelda picked up speed as if she knew she would be in her own stall come nightfall.

Mercy could hardly contain her bubbling spirit. She and Daniel would be making their home together, and she couldn’t help speaking of it.

“Someday we’ll tell our children about our wedding. Oh, Daniel, we’ll have a home that is ours, children that are ours. We’ll grow old together!”

He smiled at her with amused tenderness, and the smile reached all the way into her heart. She smiled back. He looked as happy as a small boy at Christmas. He filled every corner of her heart now. The world was suddenly bright and shining. Laughter bubbled up inside her, and a smile of pure delight curved her mouth. She even pushed to the back of her mind the gossip that caused the parents to stop sending their children to her school. There was no room for anything now but the thought of making a home for Daniel.

The morning sped by on wings of pure happiness. They talked and they talked. Would their children have his dark hair and eyes, or her blue eyes and blond hair? He wanted the girls to be blond, she wanted the boys to be dark and have their father’s dimple in their chins. The boys would be tall like their father, the girls small-boned like their mother. She would teach the girls to sew; he would teach the boys to hunt and to run the mill. She would teach them all to read and to write and to enjoy the classics.

Her eyes sought his, and her heart pounded furiously. She placed her hand on her stomach. Was his seed there? Had they already begun a child that she would someday teach all those things?

The sun had been warm on her face, but when they reached the cottonwood trees that grew along the river, the trail narrowed and the air cooled. Mercy had taken her hand from beneath Daniel’s to pull her shawl up around her shoulders when she heard the first loud crack of a rifle and then felt the whoosh of air as the bullet passed between her and Daniel.

“Down, Mercy!” Daniel yelled. He let up on the reins, to urge Zelda into a run, and Mercy grabbed the seat.

Someone was shooting at them!
The thought had no more than passed through Mercy’s mind than a gun roared again. Daniel lurched against her. He dropped the reins; Zelda stumbled and went to her knees. The wagon jolted to a halt, and Mercy went sailing out of the seat. She hit the ground on her back. The breath had been knocked out of her, and she lay gasping, her head reeling. More shots were fired.

“Daniel!” she screamed.

Mercy felt something heavy fall across her as the boom from a gun nearby echoed in her head. The sounds of more shots reached her. She tried to get up. She had to get to Daniel, but something was holding her down. Frantically, she shoved, then realized it was Daniel’s body that lay atop hers. He didn’t move when she pushed at him.

“Daniel! Oh, God! Daniel!” Through the blackness that clouded her mind she knew he was covering her body with his. Their bodies were glued together with something . . . wet! “Oh, my God! Help me!”

Panic blotted her vision. She batted her eyes so she could see who was bending over them. She wrapped her arms around Daniel, holding him, protecting him.

“Get away! Don’t hurt him!” Someone was trying to take him from her, trying to lift his precious weight from her body. She struggled to hold him and felt him slipping away from her. She closed her eyes and screamed, opened them, and saw someone in a peaked hat bending over them.

“Sister? Air ya all right?” It was Lenny or Bernie, she couldn’t tell which.

“Oh, my God! Oh, damn, damn you! I’ll kill you!”

“Help me get him turned over,” Lenny said to someone she couldn’t see.

Bernie knelt on the other side of them, and they lifted Daniel up and laid him on his back. Mercy reared up and leaned over him.

“What have you done? Oh, dear God! Danny! Danny!” His chest, his face, and his neck were covered with blood. He lay like a limp doll. She lifted his hand, released it, and it fell back to the ground. Black spots appeared before her eyes and she felt herself sinking away from reality and into a black void.

When Mercy came to, she was lying on her back, her face in the sun. It was wet! She lifted a hand to wipe the water from her eyes.

“Ya swooned, Sister. Wake up.” It was Lenny talking.

“Daniel,” she whimpered, then rolled over and crawled to him. “Oh, dear God!” Reason suddenly left her. She sprang at Lenny, hitting, clawing, scratching. “Damn you to hell! You’ve killed him!”

“Hold on, Sister!” Lenny tried to ward off her blows. “Get ’er, Bernie. She’s gone plumb crazy.”

“Stop it! He ain’t dead!” Bernie grabbed her from the back and held her. “We ain’t the ones what done it, nohow. We done kilt them two fellows what was doin’ the shootin’.”

The words began to sink into her mind slowly. It wasn’t her brothers who had shot Daniel! They had come to help him. It didn’t occur to her to ask what they were doing there, two days from the Baxter homestead. They were there. They would help them.

“Get your mind together, Hester, if’n yore goin’ ta help him,” Lenny said sharply.

Mercy’s face crumbled when Bernie released her arms, and she sank to her knees beside Daniel’s still form.

“How bad is he?”

“I dunno. If’n yore thinkin’ straight, get somethin’ to stop the bleedin’.” Bernie’s hand on her shoulder shook her.

“In my carpetbag.” Mercy looked wildly around when Bernie left her. The wagon lay on its side, with Zelda still in the traces. The buckskin had broken loose from the wagon and stood a few yards away. She saw all this in a glance while she lifted Daniel’s hand and held it to her cheek. This was not the time for her to panic, she told herself. Daniel needed her. She looked at Lenny. “Where . . . was he hit?”

“Here’s one.” He moved aside the sleeveless vest, split the laces on Daniel’s shirt, and pulled it back to reveal a gaping hole. There was some blood, but not as much as streamed down his face from the wound on his head. “Fellers waited till ya went by. Hit him in the back ’n’ it come out here. Then he got a slice ’cross his head. It’s bleedin’ a heap but ain’t too deep, far as I can tell. He was crawlin’ onto ya when he got a good’n in his leg.”

“He was shot three times? We’ve got to do something or he’ll die!”

“We best tie up his leg first off. It’s bleedin’ most.”

Bernie tore strips from something he took from her carpetbag while Lenny slit Daniel’s pant leg with his knife. Before they bound the leg, Lenny soaked a rag in whiskey from the jug Wyatt had put in the wagon and pressed it to the gaping wound in his thigh. He did the same with the shoulder wound, both front and back.

“How come you’re here?” Mercy asked after Bernie had gently lifted Daniel so Lenny could reach the wound in his back.

“Hod said to come. Said we owed it ta ya ta see ya got back. We warn’t goin’ ta show ourselves knowin’ how ya was feelin’ ’bout what we done.”

“You’ve been with us all the way?”

“Ahead or behind. We passed by them fellers a while ago. Bernie looked back ’n’ seen ’em scutterin’ off the road, quick like. We figgered they was goin’ ta waylay ya. We come a-hightailin’ it.”

“Did you kill them? Oh, I hope you did!”

“Deader ’n’ hell. It’s certain they was set fer killin’ Dan’l. Shootin’ at ’em, they was, while he was crawlin’ ta ya.”

“He covered me,” she whispered. “He was trying to protect me.”

Mercy carefully washed the blood from the crease on the top of Daniel’s head. There was a groove, but it appeared to be the least serious of his wounds.

“He goin’ ta have a hell of a headache. I got one like that once. I figger that’s the one that killed the horse,” Bernie said. “Hit’s a good thin’ Dan’l ducked his head.” Mercy looked up at her brother and saw compassion in his eyes. “Them fellers warn’t good shots a-tall. Any kid down on Mud Creek could’ve done a heap better.”

“What do we do now, Bernie?” Mercy asked softly.

“We get the wagon turned up, ’n’ my mule hitched ta it. Ya ain’t ta worry, Hester. Me ’n’ Lenny’ll see ya on home.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “Thank you.”

Mercy was surprised by her brother’s cleverness in devising a place for Daniel. They knocked out the wagon seat and used the padded seat and back for a bed. Daniel’s legs were too long for the short wagon bed. Lenny tied the saddle on the very end of the wagon where it would be beneath Daniel’s knees. They had to keep his knee raised because of the wound in the back of his thigh.

Bernie rode one mule and led the one hitched to the wagon. Lenny rode behind on the buckskin, his rifle in his hands. Mercy sat beside her husband, her hair hanging down her back, the front of her dress bloodstained. They passed the inn where they had stayed the first night. The landlord, Sickles, stood in the doorway. He raised a hand in greeting. Mercy and her brothers ignored him.

For long, agonizing hours they pressed on. Mercy drank water from the water jug and dampened a cloth to wipe the blood from Daniel’s face. From time to time he stirred restlessly but didn’t regain consciousness. Lenny, Bernie, and their mules seemed tireless. Mercy told them there was food in the food box if they wanted to eat. They said they weren’t hungry, but they’d take cup of water and a drink from the whiskey jug. The wagon didn’t stop. Lenny took the water and the jug to Bernie, then brought it back to the wagon.

They came into New Harmony in the late afternoon. Mercy wondered if they should stop there and try to find a doctor. She thought of putting Daniel’s life in the hands of strangers, and a shiver went down her spine. If he was going to get well, it would be at home with her. Tennessee was as good a doctor as there was in these parts. Many people went to Tennessee for doctoring in spite of the fact that she was part Indian.

The ferry was at the landing when they reached it. The ferryman stood with hands on his hips and looked over the strange procession. Mercy waved to him. While he walked up the ramp to the wagon she took several coins from the bag Daniel had concealed inside his shirt.

“Ma’am? Ain’t this Daniel Phelp’s outfit?”

“Yes.” She moved the blanket aside so the man could see Daniel’s face. “He’s been shot. We need to get him home. Can we cross now?” She held out the coins. “Is this enough?”

“We shore can cross now, and I ain’t takin’ no coin from Dan Phelps when he’s layin’ flat on his back.” He rolled his eyes toward Bernie on the mule, remembering a few days back when he had been so contrary.

“We got waylaid by robbers. My brothers were riding ahead of us and came back, or we’d have been killed.” Mercy looked the man in the eyes. “They’ll see that we get home to Quill’s Station.”

“Well, ma’am, come on aboard. Hey, there,” he called to Bernie. “Will that stubborn jackass let me lead him on?”

“Nope. Jobe ain’t likin’ strangers. Lenny’ll put the horse on, then come back fer Jobe.”

Bernie stood beside the mule, hitched to the wagon, while they crossed. Lenny helped Mercy out of the wagon. She was so stiff, she could hardly stand. Her back and shoulders ached as if she had been beaten with a stick. She stood for a while, then climbed back into the wagon. She couldn’t bear to be away from Daniel. Her heart felt like a lump of lead in her chest. If only he would wake up and look at her.

Daniel awakened at dusk. Slowly, hazily, he became aware of movement. He was riding, riding, riding. Suddenly he became conscious of pain. Pain that raked him like a giant claw. Darkness was hemming him in, heat was melting his bones, and he ached in every fiber of his being. His eyes grated open and he stared at the sky; then they drifted closed and opened wide again. Sweet Jesus! Mercy. Where was she? He must have said her name, because she was there, bending over him.

“I’m here, sweetheart. Are you awake?”

“Mercy . . .” A terrified look came over his face at his instant recall. “Are you . . . are you all right?”

“I’m just fine. Lenny and Bernie came in time. They were seeing us home, like Hod said. They were riding ahead and came back.”

“So it
was
their tracks I saw ahead of us. They must have spooked the horse too. I remember the shot in the back. Where else was I hit?”

“The bullet went in your back and came out the front. You have a crease on your head from another bullet. Bernie said that was the one that hit Zelda. And you were hit in the back of the thigh.”

“They wanted to make sure they got me. Who were they?”

“I don’t know. They were killed by Lenny and Bernie. They’re taking us home.”

“Tell them . . . I’m obliged.”

“They know that.” She smoothed the hair back from his face with gentle fingers.

“Where are we?”

“We’ve already crossed the Wabash. We’re going up the river road.”

“I’m awfully thirsty.”

Mercy poured a cup of water from the jug and attempted to raise his head so he could drink. He closed his eyes and groaned.

“Oh, God! Honey, I can’t. My head feels like it’s been split with an ax. I can’t move it.”

“Lie still.” Mercy reached into her carpetbag, brought out a clean handkerchief, and dipped it in the water. “Open your mouth.” She squeezed the cloth, and the water dripped into his mouth.

“He come to yet?” Lenny asked as he came up beside the wagon.

“He’s thirsty. If you got a dry reed, he could use it to suck the water out of the cup.”

“No chore to get it.” Lenny wheeled the horse around.

“Lenny will get a reed and you can drink all the water you want.” She wiped his forehead with the wet handkerchief and followed it with her lips. “Oh, darling, I’ve been so scared. I love you.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her through a cloud of pain. “I love you, honey. My wanting you all to myself almost got you . . . killed.”