Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (36 page)

Tears were streaming down Tally’s face. “I ain’t a killer. I couldn’t a killed that boy like . . . you did.”

“He had a gun in his hand. I knocked him out. When he comes to he’ll be at your throat the first chance he gets.”

Tally looked at Amy for help, but the eyes that looked back at him were cold. She turned away from him and went to Rain. He slipped her knife back in the scabbard that hung from her waist. His hands moved up to her shoulders and gripped hard.

“You’re a woman to ride the river with, sweetheart. Old Juicy would have been proud, but not as proud as I am.” He kissed her gently on the forehead.

“I had to stop Bull—”

“I know. It’s over. Don’t think about it. I’ll see if any of them out there had a bottle of whiskey. Gavin’s going to need it.” He started away, then turned back. “Shoot that downed mule, Tally. You’ve still got a load in your gun.”

They put several miles between them and the battlefield where the bodies of the dead and wounded had fallen before they stopped. The ride was torture for Gavin. Amy led his horse and Eleanor rode alongside him. They camped near a little creek beneath a spreading oak tree. Amy and Eleanor gathered old leaves into a soft mat and spread blankets over them. Rain and Tally lifted Gavin from the horse and placed him on it. Not a grunt or a groan passed the big man’s lips even though his face was ashen and drenched with sweat.

“I’ll build a fire,” Amy said when Tally and Rain led the horses away. “We’ll need bandages, Eleanor. I’ve got a clean cloth shirt. What do you have?”

“I’ve got another petticoat.” Eleanor’s eyes were filled with tears. “He . . . pushed me behind him after I shot. He’ll be all right, won’t he?” Quaking fear raced through her; her knees felt like water.

“He’s big and strong. I’ve seen weaker men recover from worse wounds.” Amy slipped an arm about the small, dark-haired woman. “You were grand, Eleanor. Just grand! You came through like a real frontier woman. Uncle Juicy would have said you’ve got sand. Are you sure you weren’t raised on the frontier and have been fooling me about Louisville?”

“I just had to do what I could.”

“It was plenty. As soon as we get a chance, I’ll teach you how to load the rifle and shoot. I’ll teach you to throw a knife too. But right now we’ve got to see to Gavin. I’ll start a fire. Take the coffeepot to the creek and scour it, fill it with clean, clear water. Rain will want to get that bullet out of Gavin’s side and he’ll need boiling water.”

By the time the water was boiling, Rain had whetted his knife until the blade was keen. He held it and Amy’s in the boiling water for several minutes, then went to kneel beside Gavin.

“Do you want another drink of that whiskey?”

“Lord no! That’d kill a mon!”

“I don’t know if the bullet touched any vital parts or not. I don’t think it has. The bullet was nearly spent when it hit you. I can feel it under the skin on your back. I’ll have to make a cut and pull it on through.”

“Do what ye need to.” Gavin’s voice was slurred from the whiskey.

“I’ll help you, Rain,” Eleanor said.

“No, lassie.” Gavin’s voice firmed up. “Go on down to the creek ’n wash yer pretty face,” he said as if talking to a child. “It’ll be no sight for ye to be seein’.”

“Come on away, Eleanor. We’ve got to wash this petticoat so we can use it again tomorrow.” Amy picked up the bloody cloth Rain had taken from around Gavin’s middle and drew Eleanor toward the creek. “He doesn’t want you to see him like that. He’s afraid he’ll holler when Rain takes the bullet out. Men! They’re afraid to show a little weakness.”

“But Rain needs help, and Tally won’t be worth a flitter.”

“Rain was right about Tally. He should have stayed on the farm.”

“Oh, Amy! I love Gavin so much!”

“Eleanor! You haven’t . . . ? Didn’t . . . ?”

“No! But I would have. He wouldn’t!”

“But . . . what about Will Bradford?”

“I don’t care about Will. I love Gavin. I don’t want to go to Will, but don’t tell Rain. Please don’t.”

“I won’t tell him.”

Troubled by her promise and Eleanor’s unhappy state, Amy left Eleanor by the creek and returned to camp.

Rain worked over Gavin with swift, sure strokes of the knife. Gavin bit down hard on the leather belt between his teeth and not a sound escaped his lips even when Rain drew the bullet out through the hole he cut in his back. A gasp was all that was heard when he poured vinegar on the wound. With his knife and Amy’s he picked lint from the wound in Gavin’s side, then doused it with a small amount of their precious supply of vinegar, blessing Amy for insisting that they bring it along.

“It’s lucky that bullet was almost spent or it would have torn a chunk out of you,” Rain said when he finished. “Amy, smear some salve on the cut I made in his back. I’ll find a slippery elm. Tonight we’ll boil the bark and make a poultice, but for now that’s got to do.” He wrapped a wide strip from Eleanor’s other petticoat around Gavin’s middle. “We’ll stay here today and tomorrow. The next day we’ll have to go on to Davidsonville. If he can’t ride, I’ll build a travois.”

“He needs fresh meat to build his strength,” Amy said, wiping the sweat from Gavin’s forehead.

“I’ll go—” Rain’s words were cut off by Eleanor’s scream that came from the creek.

Amy jumped to her feet.

Eleanor screamed again. The terrified woman was running toward them as if the devil were after her. “Indians! Indians!”

“It’s all right,” Rain said quickly and placed his hand on Amy’s arm. “It’s all right,” he said again to Eleanor when she reached them. “He’s a friend of mine. I knew he was there.”

The Indian that came out of the woods riding a magnificent sorrel was tall, lithe in build, and wore doeskin britches and a shirt adorned with beads. He was lighter in color than most Indians with a pleasant, expressive face and lively intelligent eyes. He leaped from the horse when Rain went to meet him with an outstretched hand and beaming smile. The two clasped hands and pounded each other on the shoulders and wrestled each other like two cub bears.

“Greetings, Meshewa.”

“Greetings, Tallman.”

“Is my friend Meshewa getting so old he can’t conceal himself from a woman, and so ugly he frightens her out of her wits when she sees him?” Rain teased.

“Ah . . . such a pretty woman! My feet follow my eyes.” His English was smooth and effortless. “She must forgive me for frightening her.”

“Mary Blue Feather will skin you out and use your hide for whet leather if she catches you eyeing another woman.”

The Indian was handsome. He was as handsome as Amy remembered Tecumseh to be when he visited Quill’s Station years ago. At the mention of his wife, Meshewa’s smile broadened and his dark eyes glinted.

“That is true, Tallman. She watches me like the hawk watches the rabbit.” There was pride in his tone. “She makes me wear these in my hair to keep my thoughts on her.” His black hair was parted in the middle and two short braids decorated with small blue feathers lay on his chest. He lifted one as he spoke.

“How is Mary Blue Feather?” Rain asked.

“Big with papoose.” Meshewa made a motion with his hand to indicate a large stomach.

“Again?” Rain exclaimed. “No wonder they call you Meshewa, the stallion.”

The Indian laughed, his dark eyes going from Rain to Amy standing beside him.

“Your woman, Tallman?”

“My woman. She’s called Amy.”

“Little Wife?” He looked at Rain and Rain nodded. “I’ve heard much about Little Wife from Quill’s Station.” Meshewa’s dark eyes settled boldly on Amy’s face. “My uncle, John Spotted Elk, spoke often of Juicy Deverell.”

“He was his friend,” Amy murmured.

“No papoose, Tallman?” Meshewa looked pointedly at Amy’s flat stomach. “Want that Meshewa show you how to make papoose?”

Color flooded Amy’s face, but she refused to turn from the Indian’s knowing eyes.

“We’ll make the papoose when the time is right,” Rain said and threw his arm across Amy’s shoulders. “Sweetheart, this
heathen
is the son of Minnie Dove, sister of my stepfather. We grew up together. His father, Black Fox, failed to teach him manners.”

Amy held out her hand. “How do you do?”

The Indian took her hand in his and pumped it up and down. “How do you do?” he repeated. “She pretty woman, Tallman. She shoot good, too.”

“You were . . . there?” Amy stammered.

“I watch to see what Tallman do. My uncle would be proud. You did fine too, Little Wife.” He dismissed the shootings with a shrug of his shoulders.

“The woman you scared is Eleanor Woodbury. I’m taking her to Will Bradford at Belle Point.”

“Ahh . . .” The Indian turned to look at Eleanor who was kneeling beside Gavin. “Will Bradford’s woman?”

“Will sent for her.”

“Do you know Will Bradford too?” Amy asked.

“Meshewa knows everyone this side of the Rocky Mountains,” Rain said with a grin.

“Be glad, Tallman. I know Antoine Efant ask questions of you.”

“Antoine Efant? The Frenchman who stole the furs out from under the noses of Chouteau and Lisa Manuel?” Rain’s face was suddenly grim. “What’s he been wanting to know about me? Where did you hear this?”

Meshewa shrugged again. “Saint Genevieve. What man usually want to know? Where you go? Why you go? When you go? He may want your woman.” The Indian said the last with a teasing glance at Amy.

“He’ll pay hell getting her!” Rain was suddenly angry. “Is Efant short, stocky, black curly hair, and wears a knit cap?”

“He not pretty like you, Tallman.”

“Meshewa! Damn you!”

Meshewa laughed and clapped Rain on the shoulder. “Mary Blue Feather say Tallman make good lover. Huh, Little Wife?”

“Mary Blue Feather was right,” Amy said boldly and smiled into the Indian’s eyes.

Meshewa turned his attention to Eleanor. “If this one be Will Bradford’s woman, why did big man carry her to hot pool and sleep with her under one blanket? Will Bradford kill him.”

Eleanor jumped up. “He didn’t!” she exclaimed.

“I see big man’s prints, one bed.” Meshewa shrugged again and turned back to Rain. “Big man hurt bad?”

“I’m not sure. I got the bullet out and the bleeding has stopped. Tonight I’ll make a slippery elm poultice if I can find an elm tree. I don’t want to stay here more than one more day.”

The Indian stood over Gavin and nodded gravely. “Needs meat to make strong. Come, Tallman. Hunt with Meshewa. I show you slippery elm and elk.”

“Fire a single shot if you need me, Amy.” Rain picked up his rifle. “We’ll not be far away.”

“If he’s a friend of yours, why didn’t he come help us today?” she whispered when the Indian went to get his horse and the gun he had left lying in the grass.

“There was no reason to, sweetheart. It was best he didn’t let Bull know he was there. If it had come to hand-to-hand fighting, he would have come charging in. It’s what I would have done.”

“Did you know he was there?”

“No. The first I knew he was near was when I stopped here. He knew this was a likely place to camp and was here ahead of us. He left his sign here on the tree and I stopped. We’ve left signs for each other since we were knee-high to a duck. Get the kettle on, we’ll be back with fresh meat. Meanwhile, make Gavin some tea.”

Eleanor sat on the blanket beside Gavin and held his hand. He had drifted off to sleep. She looked across at Amy with teary eyes.

“We weren’t under a blanket,” she said with a catch in her voice. “He sat up beside me all night. It was almost morning when I persuaded him to lie down and rest. We did nothing wrong, Amy. I swear it!”

“You don’t have to explain to me—”

“But I want to tell you about it so you’ll not think . . . badly of Gavin. I asked him to kiss me and he wouldn’t. So I kissed him. That’s all that happened.”

“If you feel you and Gavin have done no wrong, that’s all that matters, Eleanor. I’m going to build a spit and hang the kettle over the fire. Then I’m going to talk with Tally. Sit here and fan the flies off Gavin. Sleep is the best thing for him right now.”

Tally had hobbled the mule and the horses in a small grassy clearing near the creek. He sat with his back to a tree, knees up, throwing the blade of his pocketknife into the dirt between his booted feet.

“That’s sure a good way to dull a knife.” Amy walked up to him and stood looking down at his bent head.

Tally wiped the blade on his pant leg, flipped it shut and put it in his pocket. He clasped his hands around his bent knees, refusing to look at her.

“When we get to Davidsonville, I want you to leave us, Tally. Maybe you can get work there until you can join up with some folks going back up north. If not, I’ll give you some money to see you home.”

“I don’t need your money. I’m sorry I shamed you, Miss Amy.”

“You didn’t shame me. You shamed yourself.”

“I’m not cut out for . . . killin’ ’n traipsin’ all over the country. I’m a farmer.”

“Rain tried to tell you that. He tried to tell me too, but I wouldn’t listen.”

“I don’t hold with killin’ like he done. Ma said he was . . . hard. She said a wandering man wasn’t no good to hisself or anybody.”

“I don’t hold with killing either, and neither does Rain, unless someone is trying to kill us!” Amy said heatedly. “I had to stop Bull today when you failed to do it. That gave the boy the chance to shoot Gavin.”

“I couldn’t just kill him,” Tally said stubbornly.

“No. You’d have let them come on and kill us,” Amy retorted sarcastically.

“We wasn’t sure they was agoin’ to.”

“Oh, for crying out loud! You’re just as bullheaded as my pa. You stayed with your mother because you needed her to tell you what to do. Go on back home, Tally. Your place is behind the plow.”

“It wasn’t so bad. It’s a heap better than shilly-shallyin’ all over the country without a spot of your own,” he retorted.

“Rain and I will have a place of our own someday. We’re settling in Arkansas.”

“You been sleepin’ with him, and you ain’t wed!” Tally spat out accusingly.

“Yes, I have. I’m proud of it. I hope to bear his children; many, many children. I pity your wife if you ever get one. She’ll be getting a gutless man.”