Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (17 page)

Anger made Liberty’s hands shake as she took the blanket from the bed and draped it about the thin, trembling girl.

“Come around here, Mr. Thompson, or do you want Farr to drop the blanket and let all those folk standing in the doorway be witness to what your wife and daughter have done? You look too, Farr. Look, and tell me that they’ve not mistreated her.” Mr. Thompson walked around and stood beside the bunk. Willa’s head rested on Liberty’s shoulder and Liberty dropped the blanket down to expose her back.

“God in heaven!” Mr. Thompson exclaimed. “What happened to you, girl?”

Willa rolled her head back and forth.

Liberty’s angry eyes met Farr’s and saw anger and pity there. “This isn’t all. She’s got cuts from a switch on her stomach and breasts, her legs and her buttocks. Some of them are open cuts with pus in them. She can hardly catch her breath. One of her ribs may be cracked or broken. What did they hit her with, Mr. Thompson? A piece of firewood?”

George Thompson could feel the contempt from this lovely young woman wash over him in a chilling tide. No man, unless he were wholly lacking in pride or personal integrity, would fail to notice her determination, her strength of right and purpose.

“I didn’t do that, George,” Florence whined. “The girl fell down the cellar steps. You know how clumsy she is. And she was out picking berries. That’s what made the marks, thorns on the berry bushes—”

“Shut up, Florence.”

“I won’t shut up. This is not
her
business. It’s like Mr. Palmer said—”

“Shut up, Florence!” Mr. Thompson thundered.

Liberty eased Willa down on the bunk, took the blanket from Farr and covered her. She looked at him when she spoke.

“She’s not going with them. I want her indenture papers.”

“What?” Florence squeaked.

“I want her indenture papers,” Liberty said again firmly.

“How much do you want for them, George?” Farr’s eyes met Liberty’s before he turned to the man. “I want to believe that you didn’t know about this.”

“I don’t understand what the fuss is about,” Florence fumed. “Everybody beats their niggers if they want to get any work out of them. She’s white, but she’s trash. A lazy slut is what she is.” The fat woman’s jaws were quivering and her face was a plum red. The words burst from the tight mouth, reverberating in the small room.

“Florence, I’m warning you not to say another word or you’ll be sorry when I get you home.” Her husband spoke quietly, but there was no doubt about the anger in his voice. “Quill, I certainly didn’t know about this. The girl never said anything. Florence kept tellin’ me she wasn’t bright, and I figured that was the reason she didn’t talk much. I bought her papers thinking she’d be company and help to the women. I don’t beat my nigger, my animals or my women.” He glared at his wife and added, “Even if they need it. I’ll have the boy bring the girl’s papers when he comes down to help with the fort.”

“Papa!’ Harriet moved from behind her mother. Only Liberty saw the hand that pulled her around to plead with her father. “Make her go home with us! Who’ll slop the hogs? Who’ll milk, Papa? And hoe? And wash? Mamma and I can’t do everything.”

“Yes, you can,” he said, coldly eyeing his daughter. “You’re getting as fat as your mother Harriet. It’ll do you good to work from sunup till dark like this girl’s been doing.”

“How much do you want for Willa’s papers, Mr. Thompson?” Liberty asked.

“Libby, for Gawd’s sake! Ya cain’t be meanin’ ta pay this girl’s debt.” Elija pushed through the crowd around the door and came into the room. “We ain’t got money ta be throwin’ good after bad.”

“Don’t interfere, Papa It’s my money. Jubal left it to me.”

“All we got is the clothes on our backs. Lordy. We ain’t even got our wagon back, or—”

“We’ll discuss it later,” Liberty said firmly.

“Dang fool girl ain’t got a jugful a common sense. She’ll be the ruination a me,” Elija muttered.

“I’ll buy her papers, George.” Farr spoke quietly. His eyes flicked from Liberty’s set face to George’s harried one.

“I ain’t sellin’ ’em, Quill, but I’ll give ’em to you and take the money out of the purse I set aside to buy a iron stove the women want.” His look dared Florence to protest. “There’ll be no dress goods or bonnets when I go to Vincennes,” he told her. “You’ll spin and weave the cloth or go without. You’ll tend the garden, cut the kindling, and work in the field when the boy comes here to help Quill.”

“Papa! You’re bein’ mean!” Harriet wailed.

“Don’t give me any sass, girl. Get out to the buggy.”

“But—”

“You too, Florence, and don’t give me any buts,” Mr. Thompson shouted. “Go, or so help me Gawd I’ll give you the back of my hand!”

The two women gaped in surprise for a moment, then hurried to the door. On the way they gave Liberty a look loaded with pure hatred. Farr followed them out the door. When Liberty moved to follow, her father put his hand on her arm.

“Now, hold on fer jist a dang blasted minute. What fool thin’ are ya gettin’ us in? Ya ain’t meanin’ ta take in another mouth to feed, are ya?”

“Later, Papa. The ladies are leaving and I want to tell them good-bye. Amy,” she said to her sister who was hovering near the door, “stay with Willa.”

The Thompsons made a hurried departure, leaving without a nod or a wave of the hand. Liberty felt sorry for Mr. Thompson. He had been terribly embarrassed. But making a scene in front of the others was the only way she could get Willa out of the clutches of his wife and daughter, she reasoned. Nothing riled her more than seeing a woman or a girl treated as if they had no worth because they were female and had no man to stand up for them. She didn’t dwell on the consequences of her action as she spoke to each of the women as they prepared to leave.

“We’ll be right down the road, Dorrie. Mr. Quill said I can almost see your place from where we’ll be. Come anytime.”

“If there’s anythin’ I can do to help you get settled, just give a holler. Anything a’tall. It’s goin’ to be grand havin’ close neighbors.”

“I’ll let you know. Bye, Mrs. Brown. You know where we’ll be. Come anytime.”

“I’ll do that, Mrs. Perry. It’s right nice knowin’ ya.’ Her mouth twitched in a grin and her eyes twinkled as she jerked her head at the departing buggy.

Maude Perkins was the last to leave. She stood beside the door talking to Elija while she waited for her son to bring up the wagon.

“Your girl’s right spunky, Mr. Carroll.”

“She ain’t had a woman to show her a woman’s ways in a right smart spell. She’s pert nigh got outta pocket.” He allowed his shoulders to slump dejectedly.

“Don’t be discouraged, Mr. Carroll. Young women who’ve not had a strong man to lean on, as I have, get some bossy notions. It takes time for them to learn their place. I had my husband to take care of me, and now that he’s gone, I depend on my boys. If I can ever be of any help . . .” Her words trailed away and she smiled shyly at him.

“Ain’t that good a ya. I knowed ya was a lady right off.”

“Thank you, Mr. Carroll. Your daughter must have married young.”

“The younguns ain’t hers, ma’am. She’s jest lookin’ after ’em fer Quill.”

“What happened to her man? Mrs. Brown said he died on the way out here.”

“Lung fever. He left her well fixed with cash money, two good horses and oxen. I was well set back in Middlecrossin’, but I had ta pull up ’n come with ’em ta look after her ’n Amy when they sold out ta come here. Her man warn’t much a’tall. He warn’t no hand at handlin’ a headstrong woman or we’d a not sold out all we had. She’s awantin’ to settle here, ’n I jist may do it ta give her a taste a hard life.”

Maude smiled into Elija’s eyes. “I can see you’re the kind of man who takes charge. I wish you folks had looked at land adjoining our place, Mr. Carroll.”

“There ain’t nothin’ fer sure ’bout us takin’ the Shellenberger place, Mrs. Perkins. Libby’s got her sights set on it, but I ain’t decided yet. She ort a go on to our kin in Vincennes is what she ort a do.”

“Then you’d be leaving.” Maude gave a deep sigh. “Just when we were getting to know each . . . getting acquainted.”

“It ain’t sure, now. More’n likely I’ll decide to stay right here. Amy, that’s my other girl, is a fine youngun. Ain’t no sassiness in Amy.”

“I can see that she’s a well-mannered child. I hope you stay, Mr. Carroll. We need some quality folk along the river. I’d like you to come out to the farm and meet the other boys. They’ve carried on since John died. I’m not one for bragging, but we have as fine a farm as you’ll find along the Wabash.”

“Why, thanky for the invite. I’d be right proud to come.”

Elija saw the admiring look in her eyes before she dropped them and timidly murmured, “You’re welcome anytime.”

He straightened his shoulders and smoothed his mustache with his thumb and forefinger to hide his pleased smile. She was a comely woman, he thought, and not so all-fired set and bossy. She would look up to a man instead of belittling him all the time. The invitation was plain. She liked him and wanted to know him better. And she had a fine farm and sons to work it.

*  *  *

In the late afternoon, Juicy came in with a pail of fresh milk. “Is there somethin’ I kin do fer the lass?”

“I don’t think so. She’s sleeping. The poor thing’s worn out. I washed her cuts with vinegar and she hardly let out a peep.”

“It’s a shame, is what it is. I ain’t never seen her but onct. Me’n Farr was at the Thompsons’ afore Farr taked off on his jaunt. The little one was flighty as a bird ’n stayed clear outta sight. I reckon that Thompson gal was feared she’d latch onto Farr. If’n ya want to strain this here milk, I’ll take it to the spring.”

“All right. I’ll hold the cloth over the crock.”

They worked together without speaking for several minutes. Juicy lifted the heavy bucket and poured the fresh warm milk into the cloth Liberty held over the empty crock.

“Ya stirred things up right good, missy.” He set the pail on the workbench and reached for a hunk of bread. “But ya make a fine mess a bread.” His grizzled face broke into a grin.

“I’m sorry if the scene I made embarrassed anyone. I was so mad I didn’t even think about what Farr would say. I just knew I couldn’t let Willa go back with the Thompsons after I saw what they’d done to her.”

“Don’t bother yore head none ’bout Farr. Warn’t no way fer him ta know the little missy was in bad shape. If’n he’d a knowed it, he’d a taken Thompson ta task. He’s soft ’bout younguns, women ’n critters. He took a whip ta a feller onct fer hittin’ a mule in the head with a fence post ’n knockin’ him senseless. Farr can cut a real sockdolager when he’s riled up. Farr does what he’s got ta do.”

“He offered to buy Willa’s papers, but Mr. Thompson said he’d give them to him. She’ll be a big help with the cooking and washing.” Liberty spread a clean cloth over the top of the milk crock.

“Why, missy, I ain’t areckonin’ that’s what he buyed her fer.”

Liberty’s head came up and she looked at him in shocked surprise. “Oh!”

Juicy’s eyes teased her and his laughter was little more like a hen’s cackle. “Farr ain’t wantin’ to bed the gal, if’n that’s what ya mean by ‘Oh!’”

Liberty felt the crimson blush that covered her face. “I didn’t mean that!” she snapped.

“What’re ya gettin’ yore hackles up fer?” Juicy regarded her carefully and his eyes contained a suppressed amusement.

“I’m not!”

“’Pears like ya are.”

“Well, for goodness sake!”

“Farr ain’t agoin’ to take no poor little ole whip-thin gal fer his woman. Now, if’n ya ask me, I’d tell that ya’d be more to his likin’. I’m athinkin’—”

“I’m not asking you, Mr. Juicy. The kind of woman Mr. Quill wants is no concern of mine.” Liberty’s voice was calm and disguised her embarrassment beautifully. It was a small triumph, and she clung to it long enough to get out the door. She paused just outside, and with an impatient nervous gesture drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders when she heard Juicy’s teasing laughter.

Evening shadows were growing deeper. A fresh wind was coming up and overhead, dark blue rain clouds were rolling toward them from the southwest. Amy and the children were trying to entice Farr’s pet crow to come down from his perch in the oak tree by holding up bits of meat scraps. Knowing they were occupied for the time being and feeling the need for a few minutes alone, Liberty walked down the path toward the river passing from shadow to lightness to shadow again.

She stood on the bank of the Wabash and watched the water flow past her on its journey to the Ohio. From there it would go into the great Mississippi and on to the sea. Rivers had always fascinated her. That fascination had led her mother to teach her to swim at an early age. She thought of that now, and felt a sudden longing for the gentle stream of her childhood, yet this place was wild, and more beautiful than any she’d ever seen.

In the evening light the vista as far as she could see was an Arcadia of peace and beauty. The pale green of the budding cottonwoods, the brighter green of willows, and the dark green of cedars were a background for the glowing redbud and the snow white blooms of the wild pear and plum trees. The smell of the dank water mingled with mint weed along the bank. Liberty drew in a long, satisfied breath, consciously permitting herself to enjoy the view.

It was a lonesome river, she thought. It was lonesome, as she was lonesome for someone of her very own. The thought shocked her, and brought Farr forward in her mind. Since she had met him, no matter what her concentration on more pressing matters was, he remained in her recollection as a somewhat disturbing presence. Now, to her surprise, she could see him clearly as he had looked at Willa. His face had softened, his eyes had examined every line of Willa’s face, but when he had offered to buy her papers his expression was hard, uncompromising. A swarm of challenging thoughts floated through her mind. What would he have done if Mr. Thompson had insisted on taking Willa? Was he attracted to the clinging, submissive type of woman? And how did he feel about herself? Had she embarrassed him in front of his friends today at the meeting? If so, why had he defended her right to speak?