Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (8 page)

“You know better than that.”

“Then say whatever it is that’s bothering you, so we can get going before it starts raining again.”

“What’s got into you, for God’s sake? Stop trying to cut me down! I’m thinking about what the talk will do to Mercy, and so should you.”

“Don’t worry, Mike.” Mercy looked pleadingly from one man to the other.

“Come on, Mercy. We don’t have to explain our actions to anyone.” With his hand on her elbow, Daniel urged her on down the road. “I should have brought my horse and left it at the store,” he said when she stumbled on a rut in the road.

“I don’t mind walking as long as you’re with me. Why were you so angry at Mike?”

“I wasn’t angry.”

“You acted as if you were.”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind. I didn’t want to ask your help with the woman, but there was nothing else I could do. Levi and I certainly didn’t know how to tend to the baby.”

“I wanted to help. Have you ever seen anything as pitiful as that poor starved creature trying to protect her child?”

“Yes. I’ve seen worse. But I don’t want to tell you about it. I want you to forget you saw her or Levi Coffin. Can you do that?”

“I can’t do that, Daniel. I’ll never forget the hopeless look in that woman’s eyes. But I’ll not mention it to anyone. Will that do?”

“That’ll do fine.”

*   *   *

Mercy cooked a supper of eggs and smoked meat for herself and Daniel while he brought in firewood and the milk Jeems had left in the cellar. He strained the milk into the churn and poured some of it into a pan for Blackbird, who meowed and rubbed against his legs.

“You can have some milk, cat. There seems to be plenty.” He set the pan on the floor. The cat licked his paws daintily, then leisurely made his way to the pan, hunkered down, and began lapping up the milk.

“You’ll spoil that cat,” Mercy said, her smiling eyes catching his.

“I didn’t want to throw out the milk.” His eyes teased her. “I’ll put him in the barn in the morning. If he works, he’ll be so full by tomorrow night, he’ll not be able to waddle to the house to beg for milk.”

They ate in almost complete silence. The few words that passed between them were of no consequence. When they finished, Mercy hurried through her dishwashing chores, then carried the churn to the chair beside the hearth. Daniel was smoking his pipe, just sitting there staring unseeingly at the fire with one hand on the arm of the chair, his long fingers tapping.

Mercy worked the dasher up and down while she studied the side of Daniel’s face. His lashes were long, his brows straight, beginning at the inside corners of his eyes. The dark tuft of hair on the right side of his brow grew back in a different direction than the rest of his hair so that a lock of hair folded over onto his forehead in spite of the way he tried to brush it down.

Mamma had said the cowlick and the small indentation in the middle of Daniel’s chin were a double sign of admirable qualities. Of course, she had said that one time when Mercy was angry at Daniel. Mercy had tried to climb up in the hayloft so that she could watch the men castrate the pigs. Daniel had caught her and sent her to the house. “It’s not a sight for you,” he had said. Mercy remembered being so angry that she had run all the way to the house to tell her mother how she hated him.

Mercy thought now of all the memories she shared with Daniel. She didn’t think that real brothers and Sisters were any closer than she and Daniel, Zack and Mary Elizabeth.

Brother.
That thought tripped her mind into another channel. What was she going to do about Lenny and Bernie Baxter? What was she going to do about the woman down in Kentucky? If what Lenny and Bernie said were true, the woman was her real mother, and she was dying. What was she like? Had she had felt as protective of Mercy as Dovie was of her baby? Had she grieved when she lost her little girl? She looked up to see Daniel’s eyes on her.

“Daniel.” His name came from her lips on a long, soft sigh. She looked into the fire and said nothing more while the clock ticked the time away.

He stretched his legs out in front of him, folding his hands over his stomach. His eyelids lowered as he waited and watched her. Images flashed across his mind. He saw a small, chubby girl lifting her skirt and squatting in the yard and laughing when he scolded her. He saw her as a six-year-old and heard her shout, “You’re not the boss of me, Daniel Phelps.” He recalled the time he came back with Rain from Louisville, his first trip away from home, when he bought her a blue ribbon with the money he had earned. When she was fifteen, old man Finnigan had caught her behind the barn and tried to kiss her. Daniel was so angry that he had knocked him down, even though the man outweighed him by forty pounds.

Where has the time gone
? he thought.
The chubby little girl has grown into a beautiful, sweet woman, and I love her, love her. Not as a Sister, but—

“Do you think that woman down in Kentucky grieved when they couldn’t find me?” Mercy’s voice broke into his thoughts, and it took a full minute before he could answer.

“Yes. I’m sure she did.”

“Dovie’s baby was so helpless. I was like that when I was first born. That woman took care of me, fed me, cleaned me, kept me warm.”

“What are you trying to say?”

Mercy’s heart lunged into a terrific pounding that forced her to take short little breaths. It took every ounce of effort to bring her voice out evenly.

“I’m feeling guilty because I hate the thought of admitting that Lenny and Bernie are my brothers. I don’t want to go see that . . . woman they say is my mother, yet a part of me wants to comfort her. Somehow I feel I should let her know I’ve been taken care of all these years, that I’ve had a family who loved me.” She worked the dasher up and down in the churn automatically.

His eyes held hers for seconds, and his heart thumped in his neck. “I understand how you feel, but the tie is broken. It may be best to leave it that way.”

“I guess so, but I’m afraid that later, when I have my own children, I’ll be sorry that I didn’t go to see her.”

“Then you’ve no doubt about being a Baxter?”

“It would be a miracle if I’m
not.
A small girl was lost on the Green River with a mole under her left eyelid and a brown spot on her bottom. That’s where I was found. I want to think that I’m not a Baxter, but the evidence points to the fact that I am. Lenny and Bernie could have made up the story of the mole after they saw mine, but they couldn’t have known about the brown spot.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. I’m thinking about it.” Her eyes were troubled and her mouth trembled.

Daniel got to his feet and knocked the ashes from his pipe into the fireplace.

“If the butter is made, why don’t you go to bed, Mercy. You can dip it out in the morning. You look worn-out.”

“I guess I will.”

“I’ll take a look around outside, then I’ll check the fires and bed down in my old room.”

Mercy was in bed when she heard Daniel come in, shut the door, and drop the crossbar. Thank you for being here, Daniel, she thought, and swallowed her tears. Worn and disturbed, she drifted into a fitful sleep, waking repeatedly as her mind, filled with angry resentment, refused to rest.

Downstairs, Daniel lay on his back with his hands clasped behind his head. Lord God Almighty! What was he going to do if she insisted on going to Kentucky to see the woman who had birthed her? The thought made him twist over in bed. Then, with a sudden, violent curse, he swung his feet out onto the floor and planted his elbows on his knees, his hands cupping his chin. If she decided to go, the only thing he could do would be to try to get things squared off here so that he could go with her and then bring her back home where she belonged.

The image of Mercy standing close to Mike filled his mind. Was Mike in love with her? Of course he was! How could Mike not be in love with a woman as pretty as Mercy? He had seen Belinda Miller eyeing Mike and trying to cozy up to him, the same as she had done to him, but Mike had ignored her. Since unattached women were not all that plentiful here in Quill’s Station, it must be that Mike had feelings for someone else. He was a normal man and must want a woman of his own.

Mike was a good man, but the thought of him and Mercy together caused Daniel to search his mind for a reason to find fault with him. Mercy needed a stronger hand than Mike would provide. Thunderation! If Mercy told Mike to jump in the fire, he’d do it, then she’d lose respect for him and her life would be miserable.

What a hell of a mess, he thought. He was in love with a woman who had considered him a brother for eighteen years. He should have stayed in the Arkansas Territory with Amy and Rain Tallman and saved himself all this heartache. Daniel understood now how deep Farrway Quill’s feeling’s were for Liberty. He loved Mercy. He wanted to be with her, make sweet and gentle love to her, build his life around her and their children.

The acceptance of that fact made Daniel’s heart ache. He sat on the edge of the bed until his feet were so cold, they were numb. He lay back down, rolled over on his stomach, buried his face in his pillow, and wished for sleep to wipe the troubled thoughts from his mind.

*   *   *

In the hotel in Vincennes, Eleanor McCourtney rubbed the bottoms of her slender feet against the tops of her husband’s and snuggled into the warmth of his embrace.

“Gavin? Are you asleep?”

“Nay, lassie. How can a mon sleep with ye a-wiggling yer tail against him and pesterin’ him with yer soft kisses?”

“Pesterin’, ye say? Mon, ye don’t know what pesterin’ is.” She mocked his Scottish accent and brought her leg up over his rough thighs until her knee nudged at his maleness.

“Nora, lassie,” he growled. “Ye best not bait the bear lest ye find yerself pinned to the bed.”

“Gavin, darling, you know you don’t scare me with your threats. I’m so happy.”

“Sure, ’n’ ye ought to be. Ye got the best man this side of the Allegheny.”

“You puffed-up Scot.” She laughed happily and leaned over him, her elbows on his chest. She placed small kisses on the face that bore the traces of a hundred barroom brawls. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Tell it afore ye bust, lassie.” He drew her over on top of him and settled her between his thighs. His huge hands cupped her buttocks and pulled her tightly against him. “Tennessee done told ye she’s got eyes for Mike,” he said with a deep chuckle, sure that he knew her secret.

“She’s got eyes for him and he’s got eyes for her, but that’s not it, smarty.”

“How do ye be thinkin’ so much ’bout Tennessee and Mike? Ye got a husband to be thinkin’ about.”

“I’m not blind. He makes excuses to be near her, and she blushes and gets all tongue-tied when he’s around, but that’s not what I want to tell you.”

“Ye got my attention, love, but . . . not for long,” he added when she moved up so that the tip of his maleness nestled against her soft down.

“What is it you’ve wanted more than anything?” she whispered.

“I be wantin’ nothin’ more than havin’ ye where ye are, sweet wife,” he growled, and moved her rhythmically against the hardness that lay between them.

“I love you. Have I told you that today?”

“Aye, but ye can tell me again.”

“We’ve been wed ten years, Gavin. I love you more now than I did when you and Rain were taking me to Belle Point to be wed to Will Bradford.”

“Aye. Ye be more than I dreamed a havin’.”

“I know you’ve been disappointed we haven’t had children,” she said in a small, tight voice.

“’Tis God’s will. I not be blamin’ the mon. I got more’n my share, right here.”

“Gavin . . . I think we are.”

“Ye be thinkin’ we are what, love?”

“I be thinkin’ we’re going to have a baby.”

Gavin was silent for the space of a dozen quick breaths, then the air exploded from his lungs.

“B’gorry! B’God! What’er ye sayin’?”

“I think we’re going to have a baby,” she said slowly, spacing out the words. “I haven’t bled in two months. Haven’t you noticed, you big ox?”

“Aye . . . nay . . . I thought, I thought . . . I dunno what I thought! Air ye sure?”

“Reasonably. I waited until I could talk to a midwife before I told you.”

“Ah, lassie! Ah, love! ’Tis grand, but will ye be all right?” he asked anxiously.

“I’m only thirty-three, silly. Some women have babies when they’re forty or more.”

“But I been . . . lovin’ ye somethin’ fierce. I could’ve hurt ye!”

“No. I asked the midwife about that too. She said I could pleasure you right up to the last month.” Eleanor giggled. “I should have asked her if I could pleasure myself on you. She would have been shocked speechless.”

Gavin put his arms around his wife’s small body and held her tenderly. “It’s almost more’n a mon is due, havin’ ye and a bairn too. I love ye so, lassie. Ye be my heart and soul.”

“And I love you, my big wonderful man. Come Christmas we may have a wee laddie. What was your papa’s name?”

“Charles.”

“Charley McCourtney,” Eleanor said against his throat. “How does that sound?” She leaned up to look into his eyes. The moonlight coming in through the window shone on his face. She could see the sparkle of tears in his eyes. “I want to go home, sweet man, and wait for our son to arrive. But tonight you’re going to get loving better than any you could get in bed with one of those high-priced floozies down in New Orleans.”