Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (41 page)

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The Sufferite women had gathered their children into the far corner of the stockade. They huddled around them as if shielding them from the others. There was not a sound from the children or the women. They stood passively, waiting, when Liberty approached them to invite them into the barracks building to sit down. They shook their heads and turned away, then back to peek from under the stiff brims of their bonnets at her uncovered head, the red fringe on her blue shawl, and the beaded moccasins on her feet. As Liberty walked away, she could hear them whispering among themselves. How could they be so stupid? she thought. They would stand there like dumb beasts until that old man came and told them to move.

The Luscomb baby had cried fretfully for a half hour. It was hungry and could not be satisfied by the spoonsful of milk being put to its mouth. Amy tried everything she could think of to hush the baby’s cries. Willa made a sugar fit that pacified it for a while; then it started up again. Finally, in desperation, Amy picked up the child and carried it across the side yard to where the Sufferite women stood with their children. They never turned as she approached, so she nudged one of them in the back with her elbow.

“I saw you nurse your baby.” The woman turned and she raised her voice so she could be heard over the cries of the infant in her arms, and repeated, “I saw you nurse your baby. If you’ve got any heart at all, nurse this one. Its mother lies in that wagon yonder, dead.” She shoved the child into the woman’s arms, turned and walked back toward the house. Before she’d gone a dozen steps the baby’s cries became muffled and then stopped.

Neither Liberty nor Amy made any move to speak to their father. They were busy with the Luscomb children and the grandmother, who had finally realized the enormity of what had happened to her family and was sobbing uncontrollably. The Browns arrived and Liberty went to greet them. The Palmers came in with several other families she hadn’t met.

The one acre inside the stockade that had seemed large when they were building it now seemed to Liberty to be full and overflowing with people, wagons and animals. The quiet homestead was a beehive of activity, but so lonely without Farr. Every time the massive gate opened and he didn’t come in, Liberty had to fight down the fear that he wouldn’t return.

Maude Perkins began issuing orders with the precision of a drill sergeant as soon as they arrived.

“Elija, take the horses to the barn and rub them down. Mind that you do a good job, dear, or they’ll catch a chill and won’t be worth a flitter. The boys will do the shootin’ if there’s any to be done. John taught them good. Elija, move now. Stop lagging and holding onto your back. There’s nothing wrong with it.” She went close to him and dug her elbow into his ribs. “You didn’t let it bother you last night,” she whispered.

“But, Maudy—”

“Don’t Maudy me, Elija Carroll. When you finish with the horses get that box of food out of the wagon and take powder and shot up to the boys. Mercy me, you’re slow as molasses.” She slipped her neat bonnet from her head and let it hang by the strings. “My, but Mr. Quill’s done a fine job. Just imagine doing all this since we were here. We must do our part of the work, Elija. We’ll need a fire out here so we women can have a cook spot. You do that and I’ll take the shot and powder to the boys.”

Maude hurried across the yard and met Liberty, who was headed for the Luscomb wagon.

“Mrs. Quill?”

“Hello, Mrs. Perkins.”

“I was surprised to hear that you and Mr. Quill married. My, but that put a crimp in Harriet Thompson’s plans.”

“Harriet’s loss was my gain. Not that I think Mr. Quill had serious intentions toward her.”

“Dear, there’s something I want to tell you before someone else does. Your father and I . . . ah, we jumped the broomstick. I’m Mrs. Carroll now.” She tilted her head and smiled sweetly. “I hope you don’t mind, dear. I’ve been lonely since John died, and I know Elija has.”

“Of course I don’t mind. I hope . . . you’ll be happy together.”

“I want you to know too, dear, that Amy is welcome to come and make her home with me and Elija.”

Liberty’s quick mind grasped the fact that her father hadn’t told Maude that Amy had married Juicy. He was probably ashamed he had forced her into it.

“Amy has always been with me, Mrs. . . . Maude.”

“We’d be glad for her to come for a visit then. I’ve never had a girl to fuss over.”

“I’ll tell Amy.”

“Maudy,” Elija called. “Cain’t one a the boys come tote this box?”

“No,” she called over her shoulder. “You can do it. Hurry now, take the box inside, and come right back and start a fire for Liberty.” She looked back at Liberty and smiled sweetly. “He just needs someone to tell him what to do. He’s really a good hand at plowing, and I never saw a better hand at grubbing out stumps. He cleared out an acre of stumps this summer. We’ll plant it next year in tobacco. Now isn’t that grand?”

“Papa cleared an acre of stumps? Well, my, it sure is grand. It’s plumb . . . grand.” It was grand, she thought, it was so grand she was dumbfounded.

“What can I do, dear?”

“Everyone will need a hot meal. Stew would be best and we can cook it out here. There’s milk for the children and I have a big batch of bread, but probably not enough to go around. We’re lucky it’s not cold today.”

“Leave it to me and Elija. We’ll get a pot boiling and everyone can throw something into it. Don’t worry, dear. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you. There’s a big iron kettle in the barn. I’ll get it.”

“It’s too heavy for you, dear. Elija can do it.”

The small, neat woman smiled so sweetly it was hard for Liberty to believe she had the iron will to get any work out of her father. But there he was carrying the box into the house and coming back out just as she had told him to do.

“Elija,” Maude called. “Go to the barn and get the big kettle.”

Liberty excused herself and went to join the women gathered around the Luscomb wagon. All the women were there with the exception of the Sufferite women, who were still in the corner, and Florence and Harriet Thompson. The Thompson women sat huddled together on a bench beside the house, not speaking to anyone.

The women who clustered about the wagon were stunned by the tragedy. They were thinking how easily it could have happened to them. They talked, but not about the massacre. It was too new, the shock too fresh in her minds. Mrs. Brown was passing around her pewter snuff box and each lady took a pinch, sniffing it from between her fingers or placing it on the back of the hand to inhale. She offered the box to Liberty who shook her head.

“Ain’t ya a snuffer, dearie?” Mrs. Palmer asked and then, not waiting for the obvious answer, continued, “I tried chewin’ tobaccy once, but it made me sick.” She chattered nervously. “Mrs. Quill, seems you’d use snuff. Landsakes, if’n half a what I hear is so, you do most things good as a man.”

“Ain’t it just a shame about Dorrie and her man? My, my, what’ll happen to them younguns?” A woman spoke in a hushed tone as if the couple in the wagon would hear.

“It’s terrible is what it is. Has anyone seen to the younguns?”

“They’re inside,” Liberty said quietly. She looked at the blanketed body of Dorrie Luscomb and tears welled in her eyes.

She heard a shout from the platform for someone to open the gate. It creaked open and Farr rode in. Relief made Liberty’s shoulders slump. She blinked back the tears and went to meet him.

T
he men gathered around Farr to hear what he had to say. The women hung back, all except Liberty. She stood by her man, her hand held tightly in his.

“The raiding party was a group of renegade Delaware acting strictly on their own. They were not Shawnee. They—”

Mr. Palmer interrupted. “What difference does that make? They was Injuns, warn’t they? An Injun’s an Injun. They’s all dog-eatin’, murderin’ bastards!” He looked around seeking approval and several of the men voiced the same opinion.

“I disagree,” Farr said firmly. “All Indians are not the same, just as all whites are not the same. We’ve been here eight years. The Shawnee have been peaceable.”

There was a murmur of disgruntled comments which encouraged Palmer to speak again.

“Tell that ta Luscomb over thar, and his woman, and that passel a orphant younguns. They ain’t acarin’ if’n the Shawnee’s been
peaceable.
”

“If you don’t want to hear what I have to say, Palmer, back off, and I’ll tell the rest of the men.” There was an icy tone to Farr’s voice that clearly said he was losing his patience.

“Go ahead. Speak yore piece.” Palmer hitched up his britches, leaned over and spit out a chew of tobacco.

“Mr. Washington and I have been scouting north and south. As I said before, the Indians were a group of renegade Delaware. They’ve gone downriver, at least for now. I don’t think they knew about the stockade or the signal horns. Some of you may have lost stock, but we didn’t see any smoke, so you didn’t get burned out.”

“We ort a not hightailed it in here like we done. We ort a fought off the bastards like that Lenning feller done. Him ’n the nigger at the ferry didn’t come in. Bet
they
didn’t lose nothin’.” The bearded homesteader who spoke looked around at the others to verify what he said. There was a murmur of agreement.

Farr took a long slow breath to steady himself. He was tired and hungry and irritated. When he spoke it was in a quiet, controlled voice. Every word came out clearly and struck the homesteaders like sharp stones.

“While Mr. Washington and I were scouting north of here, they axed his ferry. The Indiana side will have to be completely rebuilt. The ropes were cut and the ferry is now a couple of miles downstream. Mr. Washington should have stayed and protected his property instead of making sure it would be safe for you folks to return to yours.”

There was an instant of quiet and shuffling of feet. Mr. Brown, who Liberty thought was one of the more reasonable of the homesteaders, broke the silence.

“The Sufferite men didn’t come in. They sent their womenfolk, but they stayed to see they didn’t get burnt out. Maybe it’s what we should a done. If we hadn’t had this place to come to, we’d a stayed and fought. Maybe we won’t be so lucky next time.”

“Hell! Quill don’t have ta worry none. His woman’s already here.” Palmer’s beady eyes settled on Liberty.

“Hush up that talk!” George Thompson spoke for the first time. “The damn savages would’ve had us, and the Perkins too if Quill and Colby Carroll hadn’t came out and saved our hides. No one forced you to help build this place, Palmer. None of you had to come here, and none of you have to stay.”

“We can come if we want ’n stay if we want. We put work in this place—”

“Quill put in more than any of us.”

“I jist get riled, him a excusin’ them Shawnee—”

The banging on a pan turned everyone’s head. Maude and Elija stood by the fire. Elija banged on the skillet again, and Maude smiled sweetly.

“Come and eat. Bring your own bowls and spoons.”

The meeting broke up. The women went to their wagons to get eating utensils, the men wandered away in groups, talking to each other in low voices. Liberty stood beside Farr. It had been hard for her to keep still, but she was learning the ways of the frontier. If she had spoken, Mr. Palmer would have been pleased to try to hush her up, and it would have caused more problems for Farr.

“What’s the matter with them, Farr? They’re the most ungrateful bunch I ever met.”

“They’re scared, Libby. When a man’s scared he has to blame someone.”

“But you’ve done so much, worked so hard—”

“They work hard trying to improve their homesteads. Some of them think that what they helped us do here is an improvement on my land. The truth is, I hate it. I don’t like looking out my door and seeing nothing but that blasted stockade.”

“I don’t like it either, darling. When this is all over and there’s peace again, we’ll tear it down.”

“I love you, Mrs. Quill.” He smiled down into her face. The noisy din around them faded away and there were just the two of them, cocooned in the warmth of their love.

“I love you, Mr. Quill.”

His hands came up and gripped her shoulders and then slid caressingly up and down her arms.

“I think your pa’s met his match.” His mouth twitched and humor came into his eyes.

“I think so too.” She giggled softly. “Maude said they’d jumped the broomstick. I guess that makes them married until they get to a preacher to make it proper. She said Papa cleared out an acre of stumps this summer.”

“And that’s strange?”

“Strange? You’d have to know Papa better to know how strange. Amy won’t talk to him, and he seems to be avoiding me.”

“Give it a little time, honey. He may be different now that he’s out from under Lenning’s influence.”

“Open the gate,” Juicy called from the platform.

Liberty walked with Farr to the gate. He swung it open. Preacher Ellefson stood there. The Sufferite leader didn’t speak or step inside the stockade. He raised his hand and beckoned. The Sufferite women, herding their children in front of them, filed out the gate. The one carrying the Luscomb baby thrust the sleeping child into Liberty’s arms as she passed.

Farr propped the gate open. He and Liberty watched the procession file down the road, the preacher leading the way. Liberty looked up and met his twinkling eyes.

“I think maybe the old boy has the right idea,” he said teasingly. “He sure knows how to control his women.”

“Farr Quill, those poor women don’t have minds of their own any more. They didn’t talk to anyone or let the children play. That old man beckons and they follow. You’d not want me to be like that. Your life would be too easy. You’d not have anyone to argue with you, or insist on having their say.”

“You’re right, sweetheart. I wouldn’t change but
one
thing about you.” He looked down at the babe in her arms and then into her eyes, his glinting devilishly.

“One
thing?”

He bent his head to whisper in a voice he used only when they made love, “I’m waiting to see you get as round as a watermelon.”