Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (47 page)

“Oh, dear! This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Farrway Quill a traitor! What possible evidence could they have to try to prove such a thing? The governor will be furious and will most certainly straighten this out when he returns.”

“When do you expect him, Mrs. Harrison?”

“I’m not sure, my dear.” She sat quietly while several seconds ticked by. “If I could get word to Zachary,” she murmured as if talking to herself. “Zachary would know what to do.”

“Mrs. Harrison,” Colby said urgently, “Captain Sinclair’s aide said the fort commander wouldn’t be back until next week. That’s five or six days away. I don’t know if we can delay that long. Lieutenant Perry is bursting to get started with the trial.”

“Of course he is. With Farrway convicted and executed, it’ll not matter in the least if the governor or the fort commander likes it or not. He would be rid of an enemy.” Mrs. Harrison spoke irritably.

“They wouldn’t do that!” Liberty’s hands flew to her cheeks and her eyes went round with shock. “Oh, heavens! I hadn’t thought they’d go that far on their own without the governor or the commander’s approval.”

“It’s hard to tell what ambitious men will do, my dear. I have seen some pretty stupid things done in the name of justice. I’ll send for Zachary Taylor. He’s a levelheaded man. If he can’t stop this altogether, he can delay it until Will gets back.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Harrison.” Liberty stood and smoothed her skirt down over her thighs. “We’ll be going. I want to see my husband today if they will permit it.”

“My dear, it wouldn’t do any good for me to tell you not to worry, so I won’t say that. I know that I’d be worried sick if this were happening to Will. Be assured that I’ll do everything I can to help Farrway.”

“Thank you again.”

“I hope sometime we can meet under different circumstances, my dear. Take heart. We women can accomplish a lot when we set our minds to it.”

The air outside was cold and damp. Liberty shivered and held on to Colby’s arm.

“Does she know your mother?”

“Yes. My parents were here a couple of years ago and spent several days. The governor wanted my father to take a position in the government, but he refused.”

“Colby Carroll, you’re an aristocrat.”

“I’m no such thing. I’m my own man, cut my own trails.” He looked grim, as if he were displeased with what she said.

“I was joking,” Liberty said quickly.

“I know. It’s just that I’m not in the mood for it.”

By the time Liberty and Colby got back to Moll Glover’s Willa was feeling better. She was pale but smiled weakly at Colby. Moll had brought her into the kitchen, and she sat close to the fire with a blanket about her shoulders.

Colby squatted down beside her. “I’m going to the tavern. Tell me what Cooley looks like.”

“You’re not going to—”

“Knock his teeth down his throat? No, not now, at least. He doesn’t know me and I might learn something if I hang around him a bit.”

“He’s not very tall, has black hair, and is kind of round. I don’t know how else to describe him.”

“I do,” Moll said, pulling a meat pie out of the oven built into the side of the fireplace. “If you see an asshole swilling ale, it’s him.” She laughed uproariously. “He’ll be wearing green velvet britches and a long black coat with fur on the collar.”

“I want to go out to the fort, Colby.” Liberty had taken off her shoes and stockings and set them beside the fire to dry.

“I don’t think they’d let you see him, Libby,” Colby said gently. “I thought I’d snoop around the tavern, then ride out and see if I can bribe one of the guards into letting me see him. I’d have a much better chance than you.”

“He’s right, dearie,” Moll said, and as much as Liberty wanted to see her husband, she had to agree.

*  *  *

The days dragged by slowly. The weather cleared, the sun came out and melted the snow. The streets were a slush of mud. Colby had met Norman Cooley and learned from his bragging that he was due to come into some money.

“He’ll do anything for a shilling,” Willa said dejectedly. “He’ll say just what the lieutenant wants him to say.”

“I’ve seriously thought of killing him,” Colby confessed.

“Oh, no!”

“Sweetheart, I’m only talking. God knows I want him dead, but I’ll not kill him unless it’s my life or his.”

“Have you seen the riverman?” Liberty asked.

“He’s here. He dives into the first hole he finds when he spots me. He’s got a better coat and is spending money in the tavern. Perry must be paying him to stick around.”

“I know it’s hard for you to believe, but Jubal, Hammond’s brother, was a sweet and gentle man. He was nothing like Hammond. I can’t help but be glad he didn’t find out how his brother turned out.”

Colby saw Farr each day for a few minutes and reported back to Liberty that he was being treated fairly well. Sergeant Callaway, like Moll said, knew the ins and outs of the fort, whom to trust, and whom not to. He saw to it that Farr had extra food and a warm bed.

On Sunday evening Private Simpson came to the rooming house to tell them the trial would start the following morning. Captain Sinclair refused to delay any longer. He said he would come with a wagon to take Mrs. Quill and Willa Carrathers to the fort. When he departed, Colby hurried over to the mansion to learn if Mrs. Harrison had heard from either Zachary Taylor or her husband.

He returned with a worried look on his face. “She hasn’t heard,” he said as soon as he came into the kitchen.

“What did she say?” Liberty never felt more like crying in her life.

“She sent an urgent message to Major Taylor telling him to return at once and to call on her before he went out to Fort Knox. She’s sure he’ll come as soon as he can.”

“It may not be soon enough.”

“She said she sent for Captain Sinclair and asked him to delay the hearing until Major Taylor or her husband returned. She said he told her they had conclusive evidence that Farr was a traitor and that he was aided by Willa. He explained that the reason for the hasty trial was so that the chief witness could testify before he left town on important business.”

“Important business, my foot,” Moll snorted. “The only important business Norman Cooley ever had was going to the pot after a dose of croton oil.”

“This is like a nightmare.” Liberty sat down heavily in the chair. “It’s hard to believe that one man could cause all this. If anything happens to Farr, I swear I’ll kill Hammond Perry.”

T
he morning was cold and clear. The guard brought in a basin of hot water, soap, a towel, and even a razor. Apparently Hammond Perry did not wish his prisoner to appear in public as one who had been persecuted or ill-used. And Farr had no wish to pose as Perry’s victim. He cleaned up, shaved, and made himself as presentable as he could under the circumstances.

The two militiamen who came for him gripped him by the arms, even after his hands were tied behind his back as if they fully expected him to make a sudden dash for freedom. They conducted him to what was most assuredly the largest room at the fort. It was packed with people. Liberty and Colby were there, sitting in chairs on one side. Willa sat alone on the other side of the room with a soldier acting as guard beside her. Hoffman, the riverman who was present when Farr killed Stith Lenning, and a portly man in green velvet britches and a fur collar on his coat were in the corner talking to Hammond Perry. Off-duty soldiers stood along the walls.

Liberty’s eyes clung to Farr’s for the short time it took for him to pass her. Then he was shoved down onto a chair and the guard stood behind him. Captain Sinclair, splendidly dressed in his best uniform, his mustache waxed, his hair puffed on top and clubbed in back, stood behind the table at which the officers of the court-martial were seated. He was as much the center of attention as the prisoner.

Farr glanced at Hammond Perry and could almost read his thoughts in the gloating expression on his dish-shaped face. He would expose his enemy as a villain, prove him a traitor, and personally see to it that he was shot. And afterward he would most certainly be a hero and commissioned a captain in Governor Harrison’s army.

Farr glanced at the other two officers sitting with the captain on the court. Not one of them was known to him. They looked honest, sensible, but they had been chosen, he was sure, because their judgment would reflect that of Perry and Sinclair.

Captain Sinclair seated himself and slammed his hand down on the table for quiet.

“This court is in session. Lieutenant Pringle, as secretary to this court, you may begin to set this down so there will be a record of these proceedings: The court accuses Farrway Quill and Willa Carrathers of consorting with the enemies of the Northwest Territories and passing information that resulted in the deaths of soldiers during the battle at Prophetstown.”

An angry murmur came from the men that lined the wall of the room. This was more serious than they had at first believed.

“Farrway Quill, do you have anything to say before we start?”

“No.”

“Willa Carrathers?”

“No.” Willa spoke so softly she was barely heard by the men at the desk and not at all by the crowd.

“Proceed, Lieutenant Perry.”

Hammond stood and faced the room. “I’ll question Farrway Quill. Stand and be sworn in.” Farr stood. “Do you swear the statements you are about to make are the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“I do.”

“Sit down.” Hammond took several steps away from Farr, then returned to stand before him. He rocked back on his heels, clearly enjoying his role as prosecutor. “Did you, in the spring of this year, come to a conference called by Governor Harrison to discuss the possibility of an Indian uprising led by Tecumseh and his brother, known as Prophet?”

“You know I did. You were there.”

“Immediately after you left Vincennes, did you go south into the states of Kentucky and Tennessee and visit a chief known as John Spotted Elk?”

“I did. He’s a friend of mine.”

“Did you also visit Tecumseh at that time?”

“I did. He’s a friend of mine too.”

Hammond teetered back and forth on his heels. “Spotted Elk’s son has been living with you. Is that true?”

“His adopted son. Rain Tallman is white.”

“White? We all know about whites who turn Indian. Blue Jacket, for example, is a white man who took up savage ways. He was made a chief and murders his own race.”

“You don’t know that,” Farr said quietly. “Besides, that has nothing to do with what’s going on here.”

Hammond’s face reddened at the calm rebuke. He resumed his questioning with vigor.

“Did not Tecumseh’s sister spend several weeks at your homestead on the Wabash this summer?”

“No. She stayed with Mr. Washington and his wife. She had an injured foot and was waiting for it to heal.”

“She was never at your homestead?” There was a sneer in Hammond’s voice. He looked over Farr’s head to the men who stood quietly listening to his every word.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Rain Tallman, the son of Spotted Elk, left your homestead and made a beeline for Prophetstown. Is this true?”

“Yes.”

“He left rather suddenly, I’m told. Wasn’t it just after two boat loads of powder and lead arrived at your, ah, so-called
fort?”

“Yes. Your spies did a good job. Did you pay them well?”

“I’ll ask the questions. I—”

The door at the end of the room was thrust open so hard it bounced off one of the men lining the wall. He let out a string of curses that were cut off abruptly when he saw the man standing in the doorway. The tall man stood there for a moment surveying the room. Then he closed the door and took off his coat and hat.

Captain Sinclair began to rise out of his chair.

“Don’t let me interrupt your proceedings, Captain Sinclair. Carry on.” The man’s authoritative voice boomed in the suddenly quiet room. The man handed his wet coat and hat to a soldier, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back against the wall.

Hammond glanced at his witnesses. Hoffman and Norman Cooley had begun to squirm. They whispered to each other and glanced toward the back of the room. Sweat broke out on Cooley’s face. His composure shaken, Hammond cleared his throat before he resumed his questioning.

“Shortly after that . . . Tecumseh came to your homestead with a horse. Wasn’t the horse payment for information passed on to him by Rain Tallman about the powder and shot?”

An angry growl came from the crowd. Hammond smiled, pleased with the response. Liberty jumped to her feet and was quickly pulled down by Colby.

“No,” Farr said simply. There was an expectant quiet, but he said no more.

Hammond stuck his tongue in his cheek and tilted his head as he looked at the paper in his hand. “Did you show Tecumseh the barracks and the shot tower you built on your property when he came to your homestead?”

“I didn’t have to show it to him. He’s not blind.”

Hammond reared back and pointed his finger in Farr’s face. “You murdered Stith Lenning because he knew you were planning to turn that powder and shot over to the Shawnee, didn’t you?”

“I killed Stith Lenning because he was coming at me with a knife,” Farr said evenly.

“You killed him over that woman.” Hammond pointed his finger at Willa. “You killed him because he knew she was a spy for the British and he knew you sympathized with the Indians.” He waved several papers in Farr’s face. “I have letters here from homesteaders who say you have often expressed sympathy for the ‘poor Indian’ who is being crowded out by the whites.” Hammond wheeled away from Farr without giving him a chance to answer. He went to the table and spoke to Captain Sinclair. “Here are letters from Amos Palmer, Florence Thompson and Stith Lenning, the man Quill murdered. I will question Willa Carrathers before I call my witnesses.”

“Swear her in.”

Hammond stood over Willa. “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God? I suppose you British do take an oath the same as we Americans do.”