3stalwarts (43 page)

The conviction gradually took root that John Butler was making an attempt to cut off German Flats. They knew that he had always hated Germans; and he had always been jealous of their rich soil… . They pointed to the fact that the number of each party had been just adapted to the strength of the place struck. Each party had burst out of the woods un-heralded, had burned and killed and taken prisoner, and then hightailed it back for Canada. There was no point in even calling out the militia, let alone chasing them. They had the whole northwestern wilderness to make cover in.

Mrs. Demooth was terrified. Mark would not take her away, he would not even send her. She stayed in the house all day, but she was always listening. She had nothing to distract her, no one to help her in the house but that miserable wench, whose mere presence was an insult to a decent woman— first with her constant sickness, now with her swollen belly and her great blue stupid staring eyes. Whenever Mrs. Demooth saw Nancy she had something to say to her; whenever she sent Nancy out of her sight, she began to think of sayings that would give her pain.

Mrs. Demooth was not consciously torturing a half-wit. Far from it. Having, like a dutiful wife, been forced to violate the nicer feelings, in her own household, she told herself that she was merely trying to make Nancy understand the enormity of her fornication. At first she had started her tongue lashings in the captain’s presence, but he had not liked it, and now she never spoke to the girl until he had left the house.

He was away nearly all day now. He was down at Palatine, seeing Colonel Jacob Klock. Mrs. Demooth could always tell when he had been to Klock’s because he smelled of manure. It made her think that the Klocks must keep the cows in their kitchen.

The men were trying to reorganize the militia and above all to get regular troops sent up from Albany. Demooth even went to Albany to confer with General Stark in person. But all the great hero of Bennington would say was that he needed every man he had to defend the Hampshire grants, and the Hudson Valley north and south. He refused to consider the opinion that these raids were parts of a larger plan. He called them mere riotous excursions. He cursed about the useless militia and said that if German Flats and the Mohawk Valley could not take care of themselves like other frontiers they might as well lie down and die. Even Philip Schuyler spoke in the same vein. The security of Albany made all of them sound patriotic. Schuyler showed Demooth General Washington’s reply to his reports of Klock’s demands for troops. Washington said the same thing exactly. Let them take care of themselves like the other frontiers: the New York militia had been the least effective of any state’s. The logic seemed thin to Demooth. He pointed out that troops were being sent to the Virginia frontier.

He returned, worn-out and hopeless. By the end of the month, the sum total of encouragement was the announcement that Alden’s company of Massachusetts troops would be sent to Cherry Valley as a base from which they could operate against any important incursions of the enemy. It made one want to laugh.

At the end of the month the hamlet at Ephratah, to the north of Stone Arabia, was struck. This time the invaders were a small party, entirely of Indians, according to first reports. They burned the Hart house, killed Conrad Hart, took his son prisoner, and murdered a four-year-old boy. But a day later, the word reached German Flats that the man who had killed the boy had been seen by Mrs. Rechtor to have blue eyes, and when he raised his sleeves to rinse his hands, his wrists showed white skin.

Colonel Bellinger, sitting with Demooth and Petry in the Herter kitchen, nodded.

“It was bound to start some day. That’s not a regular raid. But there’ll be plenty more like them now they’ve seen how easy it is.”

Dr. Petry also nodded. “They’ll start picking off all the little places. They’ll start hanging round the field fences. And it’s time planting began. Already they’re ploughing at Weaver’s.”

Demooth said bitterly, “Schuyler told me the Indians had never been effective in battle. He said we’d demonstrated that ourselves at Oriskany. Couldn’t we act like men?”

“If we had wings,” said the doctor in his heavy voice. “But my feet weigh too much.”

Nobody even grinned, it was too true. No one could be expected to rush off after raiders leaving his own place undefended. They couldn’t make anybody realize that the valley was ninety miles long, that the Tories had the whole of the wilderness to hide in, but that everything the militia might do would be plain to see. It was as if the leaves of the trees had eyes.

“There’s one thing we can do,” said the doctor. “Everybody out of reach of the forts should be told to move in. If they want to work their farms from the forts, they do it by themselves.”

They all agreed.

Demooth made another suggestion.

“We ought to have a company of rangers of our own. Somebody to watch the trails. Mostly to the south. Any big force will have to come at us from Unadilla or Tioga.”

“What can they do?” demanded the doctor.

“Give us warning. If we can get inside the forts we can hold them off, barring cannon, no matter how many of them come. It’s a long way to bring cannon. And men like Adam Helmer or Joe Boleo could make it risky for their scouts.” He paused. “They might be able to pick up a few of these murdering parties, too.”

“How’ll you pay them?”

“Militia money. We’ll list them in different companies and work out ‘service’ for them.”

“It’s not regular. They’re good at making smells in Congress.”

“I’m responsible,” said Bellinger. “I can stand some smells.”

The doctor got up. “While I’m here I might talk to that Nancy. How is she?”

“All right. You’ll probably find her out in back.”

Dr. Petry stamped heavily into the small back room. He found Nancy sitting white-faced, very upright, on a chair. Her hands were on her knees.

As he saw her, the doctor’s brows gathered.

“What’s the matter?” he asked in his harsh voice.

Nancy’s lip quivered.

“Doctor, what does the fornication look like?”

“What!” he exclaimed.

“She said the fornication would be my death.”

Dr. Petry started a German curse.

“She? That woman. She’s crazy.” He was exasperated and confused.

They were all crazy. He turned on Nancy. “Don’t talk blasted nonsense at me.”

Nancy began to blubber.

“I don’t want to die.”

“You won’t die,” shouted the doctor. “I tell you. Listen to me. You won’t die.”

Nancy was appalled at the way the doctor looked down at her with the breath-making noises in his nose.

“Did Mrs. Demooth say that?”

Nancy nodded.

Without another word he turned and stamped out. He had his own war to wage and he laid down the law to Demooth. Nancy heard it all. Her terror increased. She was afraid that Mrs. Demooth would want to kill her. In her heart she had the unavoidable conviction that Mrs. Demooth knew better than the shouting doctor. She wanted to find somebody, Hon, McLonis, any friendly person, before she died… .

The doctor had reduced Mrs. Demooth to tears. He not only dressed her down, he told the captain what he thought of him for letting his wife behave so to a poor, defenseless girl. His whole big face was flushed and his eyes stared at them as if they would burst out of their sockets. Nothing could stop him until Mrs. Demooth began to laugh. She went off into peals of screaming laughter, one after the other, drowning all other sound.

The doctor took one look at her, stepped to the pantry, where he found the water bucket, and doused the woman with the entire bucketful. He slammed the bucket on the floor, swore once, and told her to go and dry her face. Then he stormed out of the house to his horse.

After the doctor had left, Nancy listened to Captain Demooth leading his wife to her room. She sat where she was, not getting supper, not even moving, but listening to the continued sobbing in the bedroom. Over and over, Mrs. Demooth kept saying, “I’m so frightened, Mark. I’ve been so frightened. I can’t sleep. I don’t see how you can sleep. I dream about them. I dream about Indians. They won’t let me even sleep. …” The sun set. Twilight came into the small room, cool, with a wet smell from the sopping land. The snow was nearly gone. Only here and there stretches of it left in the folds of the land made shimmers in the dusk.

The house gradually quieted. A long time after, the captain came into the kitchen. Nancy could hear him moving there. She saw the light come on in the crack under the door. She tried to stir herself, and she got as far as the door.

Her own face was swollen from crying. Her eyes felt as though they were filled with blood. When she opened the door the captain was standing by the table.

He turned his face.

“Yes, Nancy.”

“Do you want me to get some supper?”

He looked at her gravely.

“No, thanks.”

Nancy forced herself to speak.

“How about her?”

“I don’t think she needs anything. I think you’d better not go to see her. I think she’s sleeping.”

Nancy swallowed. Her contracted throat gulped with the effort.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

The captain’s face was not kind. It was not unkind either. It frightened her. She would rather have had him swear at her the way the doctor had.

“You’d better stay in your own room, Nancy. I may have to move you somewhere else for a while. But I’ll take care of you till your child’s born.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve got to go over to the fort for half an hour. I think she’ll be all right. She’s sleeping.”

Nancy’s eyes widened as she saw him go through the door. She knew better. She knew that she wasn’t asleep. It was just a pretense to get him to go. To get him to leave Nancy alone. As the door closed after him, Nancy gave a little moan. She couldn’t cry to him to come back. Her voice wouldn’t work. She wrestled with her brain to make her voice work, but it would not. The bedroom door had opened.

“Don’t you dare to make a sound.”

Mrs. Demooth was standing in the door. Her hair was bunched about her head in wild damp masses, but her eyes, which stared at Nancy, were dry and brilliant inside the red lids. Crying had made her voice hoarse and nasal.

Totally unable to stir, Nancy watched her in horror; but Mrs. Demooth stayed in the door. Both listened to the diminishing sound of the captain’s footsteps along the muddy road. It was a full minute after they had died away before either woman spoke.

“He said I wasn’t to leave the room.”

She did not raise her voice; but for a moment her eyes wavered, as if even yet she feared that the captain might hear her. For a moment she was silent. There was no sound at all but the rapid beating of Nancy’s heart. Then Mrs. Demooth lifted her chin.

“I never hired you. He hired you and then he told me. I didn’t want you to begin with.”

Suddenly Nancy started shuddering. The shudders brought little reper-cussions of sound out of her throat, a hushed animal whimpering. Her mouth began to open. “Stop it.” Mrs. Demooth’s voice was raised a note; it was still hoarse. Nancy closed her mouth and swallowed, and wiped her mouth with her hand and wiped her hand on her apron.

“You’re nasty,” said Mrs. Demooth, watching her. “You’re not only a whore, you’re nasty.” She nodded. “Don’t you move. He said I mustn’t leave my room. I was younger than you when he married me. I used to live in a fine house in Schenectady. Our servants weren’t idiots. There weren’t any Indians. There was a wall round the town. I came with him. I went into those awful woods and lived in a log cabin. I never said No to anything he wanted. And he hired you. Do you know I’ve always hated you? Do you know how I’ve wanted to kill you? Answer me. Answer me, will you?”

Nancy could barely nod. The motion opened her lips.

“You’re nasty. Nasty. But you can’t move. Neither of us can move. Do you understand? It’s what he wanted. It’s his orders. It’s the will of God.

You can’t move. I have to stay here. He made me promise. I never said No to him. But I’m going to kill you, Nancy. I’m going to kill you, do you understand? I know I’ll be killed soon. The Indians are coming to kill me. But I’ll kill you first. The Lord will let me live long enough for that. To kill you and that abomination inside your body. Don’t move. You can’t move.” She laughed deep in her throat. No one had ever heard her make a sound like that. She laughed again, listening, herself fascinated. “God has made me an instrument in His hand. He removes all unclean things from His earth. He comes and walks the earth to do it Himself, or else He makes instruments like me. He walks the earth. Do you hear me, you?”

Nancy’s eyes were dull. Suddenly she put her hands to her abdomen, taking hold of herself.

Mrs. Demooth began to laugh.

“It knows. It is dying. I told you I would kill it.”

Nancy screamed.

“You know I hated you, but you didn’t go. You couldn’t. He wouldn’t let you, because he wanted me to kill you. Now He comes walking. To see you die. You and what’s dying in you now.”

Nancy’s knees buckled. She seemed to collapse over herself onto her face.

Mrs. Demooth watched her. There was no tremor to the open flame of the lamp. There was no tremor in Nancy’s body. Mrs. Demooth smiled. She looked right and left, listening. Her smile deepened. Her face seemed even paler. Little bunches of flesh swelled beside her nostrils. Slowly she took a step over the threshold of her room and stopped. She looked right left again and listened. Then she walked over to where the girl lay and bent down and lifted her shoulder. Nancy rolled partly on her side, and lay limp, bent slightly at the hips, preserving the position. Mrs. Demooth let go the shoulder and straightened up. Then deliberately she kicked Nancy.

She returned to her room and paused for a moment to look back at the prone figure with exalted eyes. She raised her eyes slightly, closed the door, and went to bed.

The evening mist drifting into the shadows drew across Nancy’s face. Her lids fluttered. Gradually she opened her eyes. There was no sound. Her eyes rolled slowly towards the bedroom door and found it closed. Tears came into her eyes and rolled down over her face.