Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (9 page)

“You’re talking silly,” he said quietly. “You’re going with us. Ma and Pa won’t leave you with Grandma. She’ll spoil you rotten.”

“She will not! She loves me. She loves me more than anyone does,” Mercy said defiantly as tears filled her cornflower blue eyes. “She said she always wanted a little girl.”

“Ma and Pa love you too, stupid!” Daniel saw the hurt look on Liberty’s face. “Why do you think they sat up with you all night when you were sick? Or take care of you, put up with your sass, and
try
to teach you some manners?”

“But they’ve got . . . Mary Elizabeth . . . and Grandma don’t have a little girl—”

“Oh, Mercy!” Liberty pulled the child onto her lap. “Did you think that because we have Mary Elizabeth we don’t love you? If I had a dozen little girls you would always be special to me. Long ago I chose to keep you with me even when Amy and I had nowhere to go. I was going to keep you and Daniel with me no matter what. I loved you right from the time Farr came walking into our camp with you asleep on his shoulder. Remember? I told you about that. It would break my heart if you wanted to leave us and go live with Grandma Maude.”

“I . . . don’t want to.”

“There, there, don’t cry, honey. We’re going to take a long trip, see new sights, meet new people. I couldn’t love you more, Mercy, if I had given birth to you like I did Mary Elizabeth.” Liberty crooned to the child and hugged her.

“She’ll go. She just wanted you to beg her,” Daniel said impatiently on his way to get his coat. He jerked it on, and slammed his hat down on his head. “I’ll go tell the kids there’ll be no school today.”

“You just shut up, Daniel Phelps. Hear me? You don’t know everything!” Mercy shouted from the safe haven of Liberty’s arms. “Oh, sometimes he makes me so mad!”

Liberty smiled into Mercy’s blond hair. Daniel and Mercy reminded her of Rain and Amy long ago when she and Amy first came to Quill’s Station. Then Rain had been as protective of Amy in his quiet way as Daniel now was of Mercy.

*   *   *

Before the day was over, Mike Hartman was able to sit up on the edge of the cot. The wound in his shoulder throbbed painfully, but he was free of fever.

“I’ll be goin’ as soon as I can, ma’am, and I’m obliged to ya,” he said when Liberty came into the room before suppertime to see how he was doing.

“You don’t have to be in a hurry about leaving, unless you want to go. We have plenty of room here, and I think Daniel likes your company.”

“I ain’t got no money to pay my way.”

“Who said anything about pay? This isn’t an inn, Mike. Rain is like a part of our family. He brought you here. You’re our guest.”

“I was goin’ to kill him—”

“He told us. The man who pointed the finger at Rain was mistaken. It’s perfectly understandable that you’d want to kill him if you thought he’d done those terrible things. If Rain was that kind of man he would have killed you. He could have, you know. He can whack the hairs out of a man’s nose with his fighting knife without drawing blood. You’re lucky it was Rain you were after.”

“I know it now, ma’am. I was jist so lonesome ’n full a hate that when the man said it was him what done it, I believed what he was sayin’ was gospel.” The boy looked up at Liberty, his eyes swimming with tears.

Liberty’s soft heart went out to him. She smoothed the shaggy hair back from his face with gentle fingers.

“I know how you must have felt. I’ve been lonely myself and could have killed someone who had done me wrong. Things can only get better, Mike. You’re welcome to stay here with us until you get your strength back. Who knows? Maybe you’ll get to liking us and decide to go with us to Arkansas.”

“I heared ya talkin’, but why’d ya want to leave this place, ma’am? I jist never seen a place so nice as this’n. There ain’t no cold a’tall comin’ through cracks in the walls, ’n there’s a wood floor ’n two fireplaces.”

“Yes, it’s nice. But my husband has always dreamed of the mountains across the big river. He’s had his face turned to the west for a long time. What we have here is nothing compared to my love for him. I’ll leave this place gladly and live in a wagon for the rest of my life if it’s what he wants.”

“I jist ain’t never heared of the like.”

Liberty laughed. “Someday you’ll fall in love and then you’ll understand. Now, lie back there and I’ll have Daniel bring you in some supper.”

*   *   *

After the children were put to bed, Farr, Liberty and Rain sat at the table and planned the trip.

“I’m figuring on taking four wagons, Rain, two with goods for trading.” Farr was listing the things they would take with them. He dipped the quill in the ink horn and wrote painstakingly on a sheet of paper.

“Oxen can pull a heavier load than horses or mules and we’ll be going into mountainous country,” Rain said.

“I’d thought of that. We’ll need tools, extra wheels, seed, salt—”

“Plenty of powder and shot,” Rain added.

“I suppose Liberty will insist on taking her rocking chair and her clock,” Farr said and smiled teasingly at his wife.

“And some cookware if you’re planning on eating on the way,” Liberty shot back.

Amy listened but took no part in the conversation. Rain had announced that he would leave in a few days. He would go to Carrolltown to see Colby and then on to Louisville to get Miss Woodbury and her aunt.

Farr had spent the afternoon talking with George Rapp, the leader of the Harmonist colony across the river. They had taken over the ferry and were interested in acquiring the store, the inn and the sawyer camp. Rain would carry the word to Colby that the place was his if he wanted it, but if he didn’t, the Harmonists would take it.

Rain had invited Daniel to go with him to Louisville, but Daniel was worried about going off and leaving Farr with all the work of getting ready to move.

“You should go with Rain, Daniel,” Liberty had said. “We’ll just have to keep Mike here to do your work. By the time you and Rain are ready to leave, he’ll be almost as good as new.”

The talk went on for hours without Amy uttering a word. Rain looked at her several times and wondered at her silence. It was hard for him to associate this silent, brooding girl with the boisterous, happy Amy of long ago who had laughed at the drop of a hat. Each time he caught her looking at him, she turned her eyes away quickly. Something was eating at her, and he wondered what it was.

After Amy said good night and went up to the room in the loft, Liberty and Farr sat at the table and worked on the list of things they were taking to Arkansas. Rain sat in the chair with his legs stretched out, smoking and thinking. It was almost as if somehow he had upset Amy’s plans by being here. She hadn’t taken any part in the planning; she didn’t seem to have any enthusiasm for the trip. Damn her, Rain thought irritably. She was a grown woman; if she didn’t want to go, why didn’t she say so?

*   *   *

The day broke cold and clear but infinitely warmer than it had been for the past week. Amy rolled out of bed at first light and dressed swiftly. There were soft movements downstairs. Liberty was up, and Farr would be with her. Her sister never left the bed with her husband in it. They retired together and got up together. When Amy came down into the kitchen, Liberty was sitting in the rocking chair nursing the baby and Farr was starting the morning meal.

“Morning.”

“Morning, Amy. Farr’s got the coffee going. Do you want a cup before you milk?”

“I don’t believe so.” Amy shrugged into her coat and pulled a wool cap down over her ears. She was slipping the bail of the milk bucket over her arm when Rain came in from the other room.

“Morning,” he said, looking directly at her.

“Morning.” She nodded her head as she spoke, surprised that her voice was able to come up out of her tight throat. Needing desperately to escape his intense dark gaze, she lit the lantern and went out the door.

Dawn was breaking, but a few stars still shone brightly. The early morning air was crisp, even though the weather had turned quite warm after the blizzard, above the freezing point. Ice and snow were melting rapidly all over. Wood smoke came from every chimney in the settlement as fires were rekindled for morning meals. Amy burrowed her face in the collar of her coat and headed for the barn.

The two milch cows were waiting patiently and lowed as she neared them. Hanging the lantern on the end post, she pulled up an overturned bucket to sit on.

“Bossie, Bossie,” Amy said tiredly as she rested her head against the side of the cow. She liked the smell of the barn, the cow, and the warm milk. Life was so uncomplicated for a cow, she thought as she nudged the udder and squeezed the cow’s teat. Milk shot into the bucket she held between her feet. She milked for several minutes. Her strong, slender fingers squeezed and pulled in rhythm. “All you have to do is stand here, Bossie, and someone will come and give you relief from an aching udder,” she murmured.

“Talking to yourself, Amy?”

Rain’s voice was close to her ear and so startling that Amy jumped to her feet and almost kicked over the bucket of milk. She whirled and glared up at him.

“That’s a good way to get yourself shot,” she spat out angrily.

“Did I scare you?”

“I don’t like someone sneaking up on me.”

“I didn’t sneak. I just walked in.”

“You always moved about like a . . . a cat.”

“Speaking of cats, you’re the one with your back up and your claws out.”

The sight of him lounging against the barn post brought back memories of another time they had talked in the barn. He hadn’t smiled then either. She had been the one to follow him, she recalled. She had thrown herself at him and begged him not to leave. The thought of that brazen action brought a flush to her cheeks. She had to tilt her head to look up at him then, just as she did now. She felt weak in the knees but stood with her eyes fastened on his. She could feel the warmth of the telltale blood that rushed into her face. To hide it, she bent her head and looked at her hands clasped in front of her.

“You’re taller,” she murmured.

“So are you.” Silence, then, “I was sorry to hear about Juicy.”

Her head came up sharply. “Why were you sorry? He was an old man and in constant pain. Dying was a release for him.”

“It’s been two years since he died. I thought you would be married again by now.”

“Well, I’m not! Not that it’s any business of yours, Rain Tallman.”

Smile lines appeared at the corners of his eyes. “That sounds like the Amy of a long time ago. Some things about you haven’t changed.”

“Everything about you . . . has.”

“It was bound to happen.”

“If I remember right, you left to find out what kind of man you are. Did you?”

“I think so. I learned I was man enough to take care of myself.”

“Why haven’t you married, or don’t they bother to do that out west?” She stared up at him through thick, gold-tipped lashes, all her nerve ends tingling under the scrutiny of his dark eyes. She fervently hoped that he would not notice how breathless she was.

“Some do, some don’t. I aim to . . . someday.”

Rain’s firm lips flattened against his even white teeth when he smiled. She watched the firm line of his mouth curve in a smile that softened the hard contours of his face. His smile was wicked, teasing, and jarred her to her senses. She wanted to say something, but his eyes on her face were almost like warm hands caressing her cheeks. She could feel them to the marrow of her bones. Color tinged her cheeks as his gaze traveled over her face, taking in the freckles on her nose, the wisps of curly hair that had escaped from the braid. She stared at him, her gold-flecked eyes holding a definite shimmer of defiance against the effect he was having on her breathing. All her defenses were raised. There was an inner need to protect herself from more hurt from this man. But was it possible? she asked herself.

“What do you want, Rain?”

“In a wife?”

“No! What do you want
here?
”

“Nothing. I came to see about my horse.” His dark eyes held hers.

“Oh . . .” With an effort she turned away and sat back down on the bucket. “Well, see about him.”

“I aim to, but first I want to know why you’re running around in britches like a boy.”

Her head swiveled. She met his gaze and for an instant she thought he was teasing her, but his gaze was disconcertingly sharp. She struggled back from the edge of that yawning pit of rage and misery stretching before her. Forgetting the discipline, both mental and physical, for which she had fought so hard since he had followed her into the barn, she answered with a scathing look in her eyes.

“That, too, is none of your damn business, Rain Tallman.”

She would have had to be blind not to see the annoyance that flashed in his jet black eyes.

“Wearing britches
and
swearing. Juicy must have let you run wild,” he said softly.

“Don’t you dare say a word against Uncle Juicy. He married me and saved me from Stith Lenning. It was more than you were willing to do.” The words were out before she could trap them in her throat.

“I was a kid. I had no way of taking care of you.”

“You . . . didn’t even consider it. You had mountains to climb and rivers to cross,” she snarled, wishing he would leave before she lost control and the tears that were so close to the back of her eyes spurted forth and shamed her.

“That was a long time ago. Why are you so hostile to me now? You’ve been like a bear with a sore tail ever since I got here.”

Amy nudged the side of the cow with her head and began to milk again. The only sounds in the barn were the swishes as the milk shot into the bucket and the contented grunts of the cow. She ignored his question and asked one of her own.

“When are you leaving?”

“Have I overstayed my welcome?”

She was quiet for a long moment, then murmured, “It isn’t my place to say. It isn’t my house.”

“Is that what’s eating you?” he asked softly. “Are you jealous of your sister?”

His words caught Amy off guard. She drew in a quivering breath, closed her eyes and continued to milk by instinct only. When she finished she stood and turned. His hard, intense gaze was fastened to her face. She was acutely aware of his broad chest and lean, muscular body. He radiated energy, strength, confidence. She gazed back at him blindly, her own amber eyes fixed on his.