Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (14 page)

“Are you going to stay after what I’ve told you?”

“You haven’t said anything to change my mind. There isn’t a place in all this vast territory that’s absolutely safe. Amy and I will take our chances here. I can’t speak for Papa, but knowing him, he’ll not go without me and Amy. Don’t worry about us. We’ll not be a bother to you.”

“Good Lord!” He gripped her hand tightly. “I’ve not said that—”

“I know you haven’t. But I don’t want you to feel responsible if something happens. Don’t worry about Mercy and Daniel. Amy and I will take care of them. Papa will complain and grouch; that’s just the way he is.” A broad smile spread across her lips. “Papa loves all his ailments.”

Farr smiled into her eyes. “I wasn’t counting on his help, but I was hoping for the use of the oxen in dragging timber up from the river.”

“If Colby and Rain bring them back, you most certainly can use them.”

“They’ll bring them back.” Holding her eyes with his, words he didn’t dare utter floated through his mind. He liked the companionship, the just being with her. He hadn’t realized how lonely his life had become.
Fawnella, sweet gentle
Fawnella.
Farr knew the comfortable feeling he had with Liberty had nothing to do with the way he had loved Fawnella, yet there was still an uneasy feeling—guilt?—in the back of his mind.

“The pond is running over.” Her softly spoken words reached into his consciousness.

She watched the surprised look appear on his face when he glanced down at the widening puddle of water. She was sure she had never seen such beautiful eyes on a man. His thick, dark lashes made a perfect frame for the intense summer green of his eyes.

“So it has.”

He had been so completely engrossed in his thoughts that he had totally forgotten the pond. He didn’t seem to be in the same world he’d been in a day ago, he thought impatiently. He moved the trough and they walked back toward the cabin.

He would have been surprised to know that Liberty was floating alongside him on a cloud of happiness, feeling a buoyancy which walked hand in hand with the singing in her heart.

*  *  *

The sound of an axe against wood woke Liberty. She went to the door, opened it a crack and looked out. To the east there was a grayness, the first promise of dawn, and outlined against that was the tall silhouette of Farrway Quill working with axe and hatchet. Beside him was a growing pile of pointed stakes. Closing the door, she went to where she had hung her dress after she had washed it the night before. It was dry. She felt Amy’s and the children’s clothes. All were dry. Before putting the children to bed, she had stripped and washed them. Then, after Amy had bathed and gotten into one of the bunks, she’d washed herself and all their clothes. She had cringed at the thought of meeting the people who would be her neighbors in the dirty dress she had worn since leaving the wagon.

At the fireplace Liberty knelt and carefully raked aside the ashes to find the glowing coals, blew on them and fed small slivers of kindling until they burst into flame. She added larger pieces of wood, and when the fire burned brightly she turned the iron crane holding the teakettle over the blaze.

She washed her face and hands and dressed. Then she groped in her knapsack for her hairbrush. Bending over so that the silver masses hung from the top of her head, she brushed, then twisted them into a rope, coiled and wound it before pinning it securely to her crown. Oh, the sweet freedom of not having to wear a blasted day cap, she thought, as she worked by the light of the fire.

As soon as the men finished their breakfast and left the cabin, she set the children up to the table and filled their bowls with sweetened cornmeal mush. While they were eating, she went out to have a word with Farr. She found him at the woodpile, swinging the axe with firm, sure strokes. She waited for him to look up and acknowledge her.

“What are these for?” she asked, indicating the pile of stakes.

“To mark off the walls of the stockade.” He swung the axe and the chips flew.

She waited for him to finish before she spoke again. When he had cut through the piece he was working on, he straightened and leaned the axe against the stump.

“Will the people be here at mealtime?”

He wiped the dampness from his face with the sleeve of his shirt before he answered. “Some will be here most of the day. A few of the men will ride in alone, but each family that comes will bring something, and usually the women try to outdo each other. Any kind of a get-together calls for a meal. However, it’s customary for whoever calls the meeting to furnish the meat. I spoke to Mr. Washington last night and he’ll be bringing up a side of venison and some catfish.”

“Already cooked?”

Farr grinned. “Sure.”

“What do you want me to cook?”

“Pie.” His eyes played with hers, glowing devilishly. “I get hungry for pie.”

“What kind?” She almost choked on the happy giggle that bubbled up inside her.

“Whatever you can find. If I had time I’d pick some blackberries. I know where there’s a fine patch.”

“There’s no time for that. How about bread pudding with nuts and raisins?”

His wide smile was her answer. “There’s a nutmeg in a can on the shelf.”

“I’ll find it.”

Liberty didn’t want these magical moments to end, but she knew they must. She found the feeling of being with him exhilarating beyond her wildest fantasies. There was a tightness in her chest, a fullness in her throat, and she couldn’t utter another word.

She went back to the cabin, her eyes shimmering with happiness.

A
t mid-morning a handsome two-seated buggy pulled by two prancing, black horses pulled up in front of the cabin. Liberty quickly washed her hands, smoothed her hair, and went to the doorway. Farr was helping a large woman in a stiff black dress from the buggy. Her body was as round as a barrel, and her head sat on her shoulders without her seeming to have a neck. She wore a ruffled black bonnet, the strings disappearing somewhere beneath her numerous chins.

“Thank you, Mr. Quill.” Her overly cultured voice and manner revealed that she clearly considered herself in the upper classes. “Harriet, dear, wait for Mr. Quill to help you.”

Farr reached to lift a smaller version of the mother from the buggy. The girl’s face was round and very white. She had large, round eyes and a pouting red mouth. Her blue silk dress was cut low at the neckline and edged with white lace. The full skirt failed to conceal the rolls of fat around her middle. The matching bonnet had even more ruffles than her mother’s.

The girl put her hands on Farr’s shoulders as he swung her down. “Oh . . . my goodness, Farr, you do that so easily.”

“Harriet could hardly wait to get here, Mr. Quill,” Mrs. Thompson trilled. “It’s been a while since you’ve come to call.”

“I’ve been away.” Farr turned and extended his hand to the man who came from the other side of the buggy. He was shorter than his wife and not as round. His flushed face was clean-shaven, except for the whiskers that edged his jawline. He looked harried and wiped the perspiration from his brow with a white handkerchief. “Howdy, George. Is everything all right out at your place?”

“Fair to middlin’. Got the crops in a week early this year. If we don’t flood out, we should make out all right.”

Liberty saw a girl slide off the platform on the back of the buggy and lean over to pull a large basket from under the seat. She was small, yet it was impossible to tell if she was a child. Her loose fitting dress ended above her ankles and showed the heavy wooden clogs on her feet. Farr seemed to see her for the first time and went to help her.

“Here, miss. Let me help you.” He took the basket from her arms.

“Oh, Willa can do it, Mr. Quill. Land sakes! We don’t coddle our servants like some folks do. We only brought her along because we knew you’d need some help, what with no woman here and all. We come early so we could take charge . . .” She looked up, saw Liberty standing just outside the doorway, and her words trailed away.

“Come meet Mrs. Perry.” Farr set the basket on the bench beside the door.

“Mrs.
Perry?” The stout woman’s face shifted from a frown into a broad smile. “I’m Florence Thompson, dear, and this is my daughter, Harriet.”

“Hello. Can I help you with—”

“Don’t bother with us. We’ve been here so many times we know exactly where things are and what’s to be done. Harriet will take charge. Tell Willa what to do, dear, while I sit here and visit with Mrs. Perry.” She had a smile on her face when she looked at Liberty, but her small dark eyes narrowed as if warning her not to interfere with her plans for Harriet to take over.

“Tell me how you want things done, Farr, and I’ll see to it.” Harriet was almost purring. She took off her bonnet, showing masses of thick, light brown hair, and smiled up at him demurely.

Liberty had never flirted with a man in her entire life. To do so had never even occurred to her. Now she pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. Farr caught the amused glance she threw at him and looked away quickly.

“I’ll leave that up to Mrs. Perry. Come on, George. We’ll unhitch and water the horses.” Farr walked away with the shorter man hurrying to keep up with him.

As soon as they were out of sight, Mrs. Thompson heaved herself up off the bench and began to issue orders.

“Take the basket inside, Willa. Be careful and don’t upset the cream. Hang up your bonnet, Harriet. Sit out here where it’s cool so you won’t get all sweaty. Mr. Quill will want to visit with you.” She shot a meaningful look at Liberty. “Mind what I say, Willa—”

Harriet disregarded her mother’s orders and followed her inside. A pout pulled the bow of her lips out of shape. Willa straggled with the heavy basket until she got it up onto the table. Before she could step aside, the older woman elbowed her out of the way and reached to lift the cover.

“Oh!” Mrs. Thompson shrieked, jerked on her skirt and jumped back. “What in the world!”

Liberty looked under the table and her laugh rang out. Mercy and Daniel were squatting there, and Mercy had grabbed onto the shiny black material of Mrs. Thompson’s skirt. Daniel’s hand still held the tiny one he’d jerked loose.

“I didn’t know you were in here, you little troublemakers. Come on out and go find Amy. I’ll bet she’s down at the barn with the little colt.” Daniel crawled out, holding onto Mercy’s hand and dragging her along with him. He looked as if he expected to be punished. Liberty knelt and placed a kiss on Mercy’s cheek and then on his. “Don’t look so worried,” she whispered in his ear. “It’s all right.” She watched them scramble out the door, wishing she had had time to make them decent clothes. She saw Mrs. Thompson eyeing them with disgust, and her hackles rose sharply.

“They gave me a terrible fright,” Mrs. Thompson said, fanning her perspiring face with the stiff brim of her bonnet.

“They didn’t mean to frighten you. Mercy just wanted to feel your dress.”

Florence looked down at her skirt. “They should be taught some manners, Mrs. Perry. They could have torn or soiled it. Children can be so . . . destructive.”

Her words were like a wind against the flame of Liberty’s temper. It flared instantly. “Mercy didn’t hurt your dress. And
my
children are not destructive.”

“I didn’t say
your
children, Mrs. Perry.” She lifted the cloth from the basket, peered inside and flung the cloth back down. She turned quickly and gave Willa a stinging slap on the cheek. “Oh, you good-for-nothing slut. I told you to be careful of that cream. Just look what a mess you’ve made.”

Liberty was dumbfounded. The fat woman’s action had caught her completely by surprise. When she recovered, her heart ached with pity for the small girl who stood with her hands clutching the edge of the table. Willa’s face was drained of color, her eyes vacant pools that suddenly filled with tears. Almost instantly the red print of Mrs. Thompson’s hand appeared on her cheek.

“I was careful—”

“Don’t you dare sass me, girl!”

Willa sucked her lower lip in between her teeth, held it there and looked down at the floor. The skin of her face was stretched tightly over an oval frame. Her mouth was generous, her nose straight and small, her large eyes spaced wide apart and slightly tilted. Her dark hair was slicked tightly back from her face and braided in a queue that hung to her hips. She was small-boned and thin. It was impossible even to guess her age, but she would be pretty, Liberty thought, if she wasn’t so cowed by this overbearing woman. Her humiliation was the saddest thing Liberty had ever witnessed.

“Don’t stand there like a clumsy fool. Clean up this mess before Mr. Quill comes in.” Mrs. Thompson’s voice was shrill, her fat cheeks red and shaking.

Liberty was suddenly so angry she was tempted to strike the overbearing, fat cow of a woman! Being unable to strike out at Liberty, Mrs. Thompson was taking her spite out on Willa. Liberty had to remind herself that this was Farr’s home, these people his guests. She tried to think of something that would ease the girl’s plight.

“It was the jostling in the buggy that spilled it, Mrs. Thompson,” she said icily and her blue eyes dared the older woman to say another word.
“I’ll
help Willa clean out the basket.” She made no attempt to keep the anger out of her voice. She brought a wet cloth, lifted a jar from the basket and wiped it off.

“Willa will do it, Mrs. Perry.” Florence’s voice rang with authority. “She made the mess and she will clean it up. Come, Harriet. It’s too hot in here for you. We’ll sit outside. Mind that you don’t spill the greens on the honeycake, Willa. My land, I told George not to take that girl in, but he bought her indenture papers anyway, just like she was as smart as anyone else. Humph! He could of got another field hand and a nigger for us for what he paid for her. Men! Sometimes I think all they’ve got between their ears is air.”

Liberty ignored Mrs. Thompson’s orders and lifted the dishes and crocks out of the basket. Willa moved mechanically from one chore to the other. Liberty tried to talk to her, but her one word answers discouraged that. Finally she decided the miserable girl wanted to be left alone to enjoy a few peaceful moments away from the two who sat on the bench outside the door. When they finished, Willa pulled a stool out from under the table and wearily sank down on it.