Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (21 page)

Liberty climbed into the back of her wagon and sat in the dark. She reached out to touch the trunk and ran her fingers over the two drawer chest. It had been a futile journey, one that had cost Jubal his life. Would she ever get over her guilt for asking him to come into this wilderness for which he was so unsuited?

She heard Amy and Rain come from the barn. Amy was talking and the boy was scarcely answering her.

“Why in the world don’t you talk to me?” Amy demanded. “My goodness! I might as well talk to a stump!”

Liberty heard Farr’s voice and then Juicy’s and Colby’s as they walked away from the cabin. When all was quiet, she sat alone with her thoughts. Amy wouldn’t have to suffer, she prayed, because of her rejection of Stith. What had he meant when he said, “someone else’s life?” Had he meant her father? Or Amy? Would he try to kill Farr? Stith was foolish, but not that foolish, she decided. That he was capable of murder, she had no doubt. It had been rumored for years that he’d smothered his old uncle with a pillow so he could have the store in Middlecrossing.

Liberty allowed the tears to roll down her cheeks unchecked. What to do now? Her father was going to insist that she marry Stith. Back home he could force her and the law would back him. It was his right to give a daughter in marriage. Did the law still apply here in the wilderness?

Each person created the life he lived, Jubal had told her. Some did it through their failures, some through their dreams. Some did it by a single mistake or a single success. She wondered which applied to her. She had made a lot of mistakes, had a lot of dreams, and the only success she could take credit for was getting Willa away from the Thompsons . . . and, of course, she had met Farrway Quill who had brought them safely to this place.

A tear trickled down her wet cheek—a tear for a foolish dream. Because of Fawnella Quill, who lay in the lonely grave down by the river, there was no room in Farr’s heart for her.

After a while Liberty lay down on the pallet and pillowed her head on her arm. Her eyes remained wide open. With so much on her mind, she was sure she would never sleep, but she fell into a deep, dreamless slumber that lasted until morning.

*  *  *

Willa knew morning was near when she heard the birds chirping in the branches that hung over the cabin. She had been awake for hours thinking about her good fortune, about the wonderful way things had worked out. She vowed that she would show her appreciation by working hard. She went over in her mind what she was going to do when there was enough light to see by. She would build up the fire, then wash and rebraid her hair so she would look presentable. She’d be sure the water bucket was full, and then she’d take the pails and go to the lot and milk the cows. She wondered if she could get all this done and have meat frying in the skillet by the time Mrs. Perry came in. Oh, she would work hard! That blessed woman with the light hair and eyes the color of a cloudless sky had stood by her against Mrs. Thompson and her fat daughter when she had been so sure she would stay with them until she died. She could not remember anyone doing that since her mother died, but that had been so long ago that now she had trouble recalling her face.

She heard the low murmur of men’s voices coming from the next room and jumped out of bed. She groped for her dress, found it on the end of the bunk and slipped it over her head just as the door opened and Farr came in. He knelt at the fireplace, raked ashes from the banked coals, sprinkled them with wood chips and worked on them with the bellows until they burst into flame.

When the fire was going strong, he turned. In the flickering light he saw Willa standing beside the bunk as if she were poised for flight.

“Morning.” He lit the small wick floating in its dish of oil and set it on the table before he spoke again. “Do you feel well enough to be up?”

“Yes, sir. I’m much better. Do you want that I go milk now?”

“Juicy has already gone, but I’m sure it would please him if you took over the chore while you’re here. He hates cows,” he said, a smile in his voice. He poured some water from the bucket into the washbasin, and then the rest of it in the black iron coffeepot and swung it over the flame. “If you’re sure you’re up to it, you can lay out the meat and bread left from yesterday’s meal and make coffee. It’s in the tin on the shelf above the bunk.” he said and went out.

Willa hurriedly washed and combed back her hair with her fingers. While she tied it with a strip of cloth she took from her pocket, her mind went over and over what Farr had said. While she was there. What did he mean? Was Mrs. Perry leaving right away?

The coffeepot was boiling and she was warming the meat in a skillet when Farr returned with the water bucket. He was followed by a tall, dark, still-faced boy, and a blond-haired man who stood with his hands on his hips smiling at her.

“Another pretty lady. I’ll declare, Farr, this place is getting plumb civilized. Howdy, ma’am. I’m Colby Carroll, this here skinny kid with me is Rain Tallman.”

“Howdy.” Willa felt the heat rise and flood her face. She hid her hot cheeks by bending to take the meat from the skillet with a long fork. She was grateful when Juicy came in with the milk and began to tell about the snake he had found in the barn.

“If there’s anythin’ I hate worser’n cows, it’s snakes,” he declared venomously.

The men were sitting down to breakfast when Liberty hurried through the door. She had pinned her shining braids in a coil on the top of her head and was wearing a dark linsey dress and had a white apron tied about her waist.

“I overslept,” she exclaimed and took the heavy coffeepot from Willa’s hand. “You’re not well enough to be out of bed,” she scolded.

“I’m better. I can help—”

“Sit down here by Juicy and eat your breakfast. You can help later.”

“But, Mrs. Perry, I—”

“Liberty, or Libby,” Liberty corrected. “Sit down, Willa. I’ll get you some milk.”

“I can’t . . . sit,” Willa protested weakly.

“Why not?”

“Cause it ain’t right.”

“You might as well sit down and eat, Willa. You won’t win an argument with Liberty,” Farr said matter-of-factly. “Is the butter all gone?” he asked and helped himself to the bread.

Liberty looked across the table and met Farr’s eyes. She saw a teasing sparkle there that released from deep within her a short-lived burst of pleasure.

“It seems there’s more butter left than bread,” she said lightly, and set the crock on the table. “I don’t know where it all went. I thought there was plenty.”

“It was Rain, ma’am. He sneaked in here in the night and stuffed his gullet.” Colby looked so serious that at first Liberty couldn’t tell if he were teasing. “I didn’t get hardly a taste. It’s why I’m so weak and hungry this morning.” He reached over and quickly lifted a thick slice of bread from Rain’s plate.

“You’re lucky I don’t have my knife on me, or you’d be drawin’ back a stub,” Rain said quietly.

“You two quit your jawin’ and get out of here before you wake up the younguns and Liberty takes a stick to you. Eat up, I need two strong backs today.” Farr unfolded his long legs and got up from the table.

Colby groaned. “You know my back ain’t strong, Farr.”

“Mine ain’t either.” Juicy held his cup out for more coffee. “I be too ole ta be heftin’ ’n tuggin’ ’n pullin’. I’ll look out fer the ladies today. They might be needin’ a bucket a water or somethin’.”

“Too old? Hellfire!” Farr snorted. “You’re as strong as a mule and twice as ornery.”

“It may be yo’re right ’bout the strong part. I could whop yore hind if’n I took the notion. But somebody’s got ta keep a eye on the womenfolk ’n see that Colby ’n Rain don’t slip back in here ’n pester ’em.”

Colby let out a snort of disgust. “Why can’t I do that, Farr?”

“Cause they’d be safer with me, ya young scutter!”

Rain continued to eat with the appetite of youth. Liberty passed him the last slice of bread and smiled into his dark eyes as he reached for it. It was hard for her to smile. So much had changed with the coming of Stith Lenning.

“Farr? May I talk to you before you get started for the day?” She looked straight into his eyes, her determination clearly visible. The words were out. She had dreaded saying them, but once a decision was made, there was no holding back.

Farr looked steadily back at her, then nodded. “Come on out when you’re ready.” He went out the door and Liberty went over to press Willa back down on the stool with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t get up, Willa. Sit and rest a spell. We’ll tidy up when I come back in.” She lifted her shawl off the end of the bunk and followed Farr out the door.

Willa sat with her head bent. She never felt more uncomfortable in her life. She couldn’t remember ever sitting at a table and having someone wait on her. She, Willa Carrathers, was sitting at the table with three men! She couldn’t eat . . . she didn’t know what to do with her hands. She jumped when a log in the fireplace burned through and popped. When she looked up, Colby Carroll, the man with the blond hair and violet blue eyes, was looking directly at her.

“I just never had nobody treat me so . . . good,” she said, and to her horror she burst into tears. She got up quickly and went to the end of the room. Overcome with embarrassment, she wished herself anywhere but where she was. She stood with her back to the table while she wiped her eyes with her palms. She heard the scrape of the chair legs on the rough plank floor and knew the men had risen from the table. With relief she heard the closing of the door when they left the cabin.

Thinking she was alone, she turned. Colby Carroll was still at the table. Willa glanced at him and then away. She felt trapped. He was looking at her and she was conscious of nothing except the serious look on his face, the concern in his eyes. An uneasy silence seemed to go on and on. Willa’s glance darted to the coffeepot.

“Can I get you some coffee, Mr. Carroll?”

“No, I don’t need anything.”

“I’m sorry for bawlin’. I don’t usually—”

“You don’t have to apologize, Willa. You’ve every right to cry if you want to.”

“But . . . I don’t want to. I just couldn’t help it.” Willa squeezed her eyes tightly shut as tears welled again. Her throat clogged and she had to struggle to keep the sobs from breaking loose.

“Ah . . . don’t cry,” he said anxiously and came to where she stood. “Farr told me what happened. You’ll be all right with Mrs. Perry. We’ll not let the Thompsons take you back.” His voice came softly through the roar in her ears.

“I know it . . now. It’s why I keep cryin’, I guess.”

“Where did you come from, Willa?”

“Pittsburgh.”

“I mean before that.”

“Me and my mum come from London, but I was little bitty.”

Her eyes were still closed. Colby lifted her chin, then wiped the tears from her cheeks with his fingertips.

“How did you end up with the Thompsons?” he asked softly.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him through lashes spiked with tears. He was so close, his voice was a mere whisper.

“When Mum died, her bond was passed on to me. The folks were real good to me. They died and my bond was passed on to their kin. They took me to Detroit, then Louisville, and then brought me out to Vincennes, but they wanted to go on to Saint Louis. They sold my papers to the Thompsons so they’d have money to go to Cairo, then to Saint Louis.” It was so easy to talk to him, her words rushed out and were barely above a whisper.

“How long were you with the Thompsons?”

“Since last summer.”

Colby swore softly. “You’re not to worry, hear?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

“Rain and I got something we got to do,” he said as if he were suddenly uncomfortable. “Take it slow, like Mrs. Perry said.” He went to the door, turned and looked back at her for a brief instant before he went out.

Willa stood with her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She had never before had such an intimate conversation with a man; and now that he was gone, she could scarcely believe that it had happened.

T
he sun was making its presence known, and streaks of light lit up the eastern sky when Liberty stepped out the door. She sniffed the fresh cool air, took a few steps out into the yard, turned and looked back. Breakfast smoke came from the chimney of the cabin. The solid log structure looked sturdy and permanent compared to her frail wagon that sat beside it. Within the walls of Farr’s cabin there was safety, she thought wistfully. A place like this was what she had been searching for. Nothing real big or fancy, just a spot on this earth that was hers.

The day before she had felt secure knowing she had the Shellenberger place to go to. She had belonged to the community—her oxen would help build the stockade that would protect them from the Indian raids. She and Amy would bake bread and cook meat pies for the men who would come to help Farr. Now she had none of that to look forward to She was scared, not only for herself, but for Amy.

“I’m here, Liberty.” Farr’s voice broke into her thoughts. He came from around the side of the house. He had a piece of straight-grained hickory in his hand. “Come over and talk while I work on this axe handle.” He headed for the woodpile and the tree stumps that would serve as places to sit down.

Liberty sat down and watched as he took his knife from his belt and began to whittle on the wood. She stared bleakly at his strong brown hands as they worked. Words were not coming easily to her, and yet she knew that she must find words to make him understand her situation. She thought of many ways to begin, but they seemed empty and meaningless. It was not easy to speak when feelings were deep and strong. Knowing the longer she waited, the harder it would be, she rushed into speech.

“I want to tell you again how much I appreciate what you’ve done for us. If not for you, we wouldn’t be here at all. I’m fully aware of how foolish Jubal and I were to strike out for Vincennes just on the chance Hammond Perry would be there and would help us to get a start here in this new country. I didn’t realize the danger and how ill-equipped we were to cope. Papa was right in that respect, although I hate to admit it. I want you to know, too, that I’m sorry you were drawn into the fuss between me and Stith.”