Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (15 page)

Next to arrive was Donald Luscomb and his family. Farr explained that they lived a mile beyond the Shellenberger place and would be Liberty’s nearest neighbors. He was a tall, slow-spoken Tennesseean. He wore his beard tucked into his shirt front and his hair queued up in the back. He brought along his wife, Dorrie, and three of their four children, one a newborn babe. The other one had stayed at home with Luscomb’s mother and young brother.

Farr introduced Elija and Liberty. The children gathered around Mercy and Daniel, who stared at them in awed silence. When Mercy broke loose to play with them, Daniel followed hesitantly. Dorrie Luscomb was a heavy woman. Childbearing and hard work had made her look older than her thirty-three years. With her babe in her arms, she sank down wearily on a chair as if she rarely had time for the luxury of doing nothing.

Two whiskered men dressed in duck pants and homespun shirts rode in on horseback, and a third came downriver in a canoe. The men gathered near the woodpile, the women under the porch roof. Elija was enjoying himself, Liberty noted. He was the focus of attention as he told of the trip down the Ohio, and how Hull Dexter and the others had deserted them, and how fate had dealt with them for their cowardly action.

Edward Brown and his wife came in a cart pulled by a donkey. Mr. Brown was heavy and middle-aged, she a spare woman, almost frail. They had six children and had brought along the youngest, a boy near Daniel’s age. Mrs. Luscomb and Mrs. Brown were glad to see each other, and after a few friendly words with Liberty they began to relate family news to each other while giving Liberty curious glances.

The Thompson women spoke to them when they arrived, but had little else to say. It was plain to Liberty they considered themselves a cut higher than the other women. They had scarcely been civil to her since the scene with Willa, and even less after they discovered she was a widow and Elija was her father and not her husband, as they had at first believed. It was plain to Liberty that Harriet, with her mother’s blessing, had set her cap for Farr. Liberty looked from the tall man beside the woodpile to the plump girl perched on the chair beside her mother and found her watching him like a cat eyeing a pan of cream. Liberty couldn’t blame her. Farr was a fine looking man. Liberty also knew Harriet had about as much chance of landing him as a cow had of growing wings.

Just before noon Juicy and Mr. Washington arrived. Juicy drove the wagon under the large cottonwood tree near the front of the cabin. Mr. Washington stood in the back, threw a rope over a limb and hoisted up a side of venison that had been roasted to perfection. He jumped off the wagon bed and secured the end of the rope to the tree trunk. The delicious aroma of the meat drew the attention of all. Juicy drove to the barn and returned a little later with barrels and plank boards to make a long table. It took only a few minutes to set it up, and shortly after that Mr. Washington was filling pans with meat and smoked catfish and setting them on the table.

Liberty heard a grunt of displeasure from Mrs. Thompson as a wagon approached. The woman on the wagon seat wore a blue flowered dress and a neat bonnet void of frills.

“Always late so the men will be bunched to watch her arrive,” Mrs. Thompson whispered cattily to Harriet, but loud enough for the women to hear. “She’s looking for a man.”

Maude Perkins was a widow with three grown sons. One of the boys was with her. He was a tall, strong boy in his late teens with large square teeth and a head of hair that looked like straw. Mrs. Perkins greeted the Thompsons coolly but politely, then turned her back on them and exclaimed warmly over Dorrie Luscomb’s newborn babe.

Liberty knew instantly that there was no friendship between the Thompsons and Mrs. Perkins, which made her like the woman all the more.

By the time the baskets were unloaded and Liberty’s wheat bread and bread pies were added, the table looked as if it were set for a Thanksgiving feast. The men, already fortified by brandy from the keg Farr had set out, filed by the table, heaped their plates and retired to the woodpile to sit on stumps and eat. They were hungry for news as well as for food. The women filled plates for the children and settled them down beneath the oak tree before they took care of their own needs.

Willa had brought out the food from the Thompson basket, placed it on the table and returned to the cabin. The Thompson women made no attempt to help her or call her out to eat. Mrs. Thompson bellowed one time for Willa to bring Harriet a cup of water. The girl brought it and then scurried back inside. This angered Liberty. She filled a plate, left Amy to see to Mercy and Daniel, and carried it into the cabin.

Willa sat on one of the bunks in the far corner of the room. Her head was bent so low her chin rested on her chest and her hands were clasped together in her lap.

“I brought you some food, Willa. But wouldn’t you rather come out and eat with the rest of us?” The girl shook her head but didn’t speak. Liberty set the plate on the table, went to the bunk, and looked down on the girl’s bent head. “Are you sick?” There was no answer. “Willa?” She placed her hand on Willa’s thin shoulder in a gesture of friendliness. Instantly the girl shrugged away from her hand, and she heard the gasp of pain that burst from her lips. “Oh, my goodness! You
are
sick.”

Liberty knelt down so she could look into the girl’s face. Huge tears were rolling down her flushed cheeks. She touched the palm of her hand to Willa’s forehead.

“Why . . . you’re burning up with fever! Does Mrs. Thompson know you’re sick?”

“No, ma’am,” she replied in a very small voice. Liberty sat down on the bunk and put her arm across the girl’s shoulder. “Oh! Don’t, ma’am—”

“You’re not only sick, you’re hurt,” Liberty blurted. She tried to control her anger at the two who sat on the bench outside stuffing their faces.

“No. No, ma’am. Please don’t.” Willa raised her head and turned her face toward Liberty.

Liberty’s heart sank as she saw her pallor. Willa’s eyes were so large they dominated all her other features.

“Let me help you.” Liberty took her limp hand and held it in her lap while she stared at the girl’s pale, drawn face.

Willa shook her head slowly. “No one can help.”

“Let me see your back.” Liberty spoke quietly but firmly.

“Please, they’ll know.” She shook her head and began to shiver.

Liberty pulled her to her feet and lifted the loose garment up and over her head. She wore only a thin ragged shift beneath her dress. Liberty swallowed hard and swore under her breath when she saw her back. Shoulder blades and bones were clearly visible beneath the thin layer of skin that covered them. Her entire back was covered with dark, ugly bruises, and crisscrossed with bloody welts.

“Who did this? Liberty demanded.

“Please . . . I got to sit down.” Willa grabbed her dress from Liberty’s hand and sank down on the bunk. She tried to put it on, but the effort was too much for her. She gave up and buried her face in her hands. “Oh, ma’am, don’t tell. They’ll be so mad.”

Liberty helped her slip back into the garment and pulled it down over her back. “Can’t you eat something?” she asked gently.

Willa shook her head.

Liberty went to the water bucket and poured a dipper of water over a cloth, wrung it out and went back to the bunk.

“Lie down, Willa. You’ve got a fever.”

“I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” Liberty eased her down so that she lay on her side and placed the damp cloth on her forehead.

“They’ll want me,” Willa protested, but closed her eyes wearily.

“They can wait on—”

Her words were interrupted by a bellow from Mrs. Thompson.

“Willa! Come here, girl.”

Liberty’s hand kept Willa from rising. “Stay here. I’ll go.”

“No, I got to—”

“Willa!”

Liberty pressed her down on the bunk and went quickly to the door.

“Get me some of that honey cake,” Mrs. Thompson demanded without looking around.

Liberty stepped around so Mrs. Thompson could see her.

“Willa is sick. You’ll have to get it yourself.” She spoke loudly and firmly. An instant quiet fell on the group as heads swiveled toward her. The men at the woodpile had also heard and were looking at her.

“Sick? She ain’t no such thing. I guess I know when she’s sick. Lazy is what she is—”

“She is
sick.
She should be in bed,” Liberty insisted firmly and loud enough for all to hear. “That’s not all she’s suffering from, Mrs. Thompson,” she added in a low, meaningful voice as her eyes did battle with those of the older woman.

“Oh! Well.” Mrs. Thompson heaved herself up off the bench with a show of indifference and went to the table to load her plate with the sweets.

Liberty stood in the doorway until Mrs. Thompson was seated again. She looked across to the woodpile where Farr sat with the men. He had turned to watch and continued to watch even when the others resumed talking. Liberty returned his look coolly. She intended her cold stare to carry the message that she was angry, and to show her contempt for the Thompsons.

Liberty hurriedly ate the plate of food she had brought for Willa, all the while keeping wet cloths on Willa’s hot forehead. At times Willa shivered uncontrollably, at other times she seemed to be sleeping. When it came time to clear the table, Maude Perkins came in.

“How is the poor girl feeling?”

“I think she’s sleeping.”

“No, ma’am. I’m not sleepin’. I got to help—” Willa tried to sit up, but Liberty pressed her down.

“You stay right here. Amy and I will do your work.”

“I’ll sit with her and see that she stays put,” Maude said. “You go ahead and do what you have to do, Mrs. Perry. I think Farr is about to call the meeting, not that the men will let us women have much of a say. That’s why I brought my oldest. They’d listen to him before they’d listen to me.”

“I don’t know why we can’t have our say,” Liberty sputtered, her old resentment against male domination rising. “We live here too, or we’re going to live on the Shellenberger place.”

“I’m so glad, dear. I’ve missed having a genteel young woman to visit with. I’ve got boys, you know, and they’re not much for woman talk.” She laughed and sat down on a stool beside the bunk. “What seems to be ailin’ her?”

Willa’s eyes flew open. Liberty read the silent plea.

“She’s probably got a touch of fever,” she said over her shoulder and went out the door. Mrs. Thompson and Harriet were still on the bench, and the others were busy packing their baskets.

“I’ll pack up your things, Mrs. Thompson, that is if you and Harriet can’t do it.” Liberty made no attempt to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

Mrs. Thompson jumped to her feet, her sagging jowls red and quivering with anger. “We’ll take care of our own things without any help from you.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Liberty turned her back on the Thompsons and caught the admiring glances of Dorrie and Mrs. Brown before they bowed their heads to hide their grins. “Amy, wrap the bread in a cloth and bring in the pie pan.”

“I’m going to hold Mrs. Luscomb’s baby.”

“That’s nice. It’ll give Mrs. Luscomb time to take care of her things. I’ll take care of ours. Where’s Mercy?”

“Under the table. Daniel’s watching her.”

“Humph!” Mrs. Thompson snorted and held her skirt back from the table as she passed.

Liberty grinned at her openly in a way she knew made Mrs. Thompson want to slap her. She had made an enemy, but that was nothing new. Middlecrossing matrons had been outraged more than once by her blunt speech and independent ways. She vowed silently that before the day was over Mrs. Thompson and her fat daughter would wish they had not come to Quill’s Station that day.

*  *  *

Liberty was carrying the last of the milk crocks into the house to wash when she saw the four black-clad men walking up the road toward the station. The male members of the Sufferites were coming to the meeting. One of the women had already told her that they kept apart from the others, never allowing the women and children to come to any social gatherings. Dressed all in black, their faces clean-shaven except for the beards that edged their jawbones, and flat-crowned hats sitting square on their heads, they reminded Liberty of four black crows walking side by side. They nodded solemnly to the men, ignored the women and children, then stood in a row, legs spread and hands clasped behind their backs.

Farr stood and held up his hand for silence. The children’s sharp shrieks of pleasure were cut off when mothers grabbed them and cautioned them to be quiet. Mrs. Luscomb’s baby began to cry. She took it from Amy’s arms, turned her back and opened her dress for it to nurse. The silence that followed was a pressure that made everyone turn their heads toward Farr.

Liberty stood in the doorway of the cabin, not wanting to leave lest Mrs. Thompson swoop in and harass Willa, who appeared to be sleeping. She had a good view of the side of Farr’s face as he stood waiting to speak.

“For the benefit of our neighbors to the south,” he nodded toward the four black-clad men, “I’ll go over again what we’ve been discussing.” He raised his voice slightly to give emphasis to what he was saying. “There’s an Indian war brewing. The tribes all along the river are beginning to resist the takeover of their land. This past month I’ve met with Governor Harrison in Vincennes, and I’ve also visited the Shawnee villages to the south. The tribes are uniting. There’s no doubt about it. Tecumseh and his brothers are preparing their people for war. Prophet stirs up superstition while Tecumseh rouses patriotism. Tenskwatawa, the really hostile brother, has been visiting the warlike and well-armed tribes of the Potawatomi, Ottawa, Chippewa, Delaware, and Miami. He has hinted strongly that the Shawnee have been solicited by the British to join them in war against us.” Farr paused for his solemn words to sink into the minds of the listeners.

“Governor Harrison doesn’t have enough troops to protect the entire frontier, so it’s going to be up to us to protect ourselves.”

Harriet Thompson let out a small cry of alarm. Liberty didn’t take her eyes off Farr, but she heard Mrs. Thompson trying to console her and the grunts of disgust that came from the other women.