Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (20 page)

He drew his knife and began to cut the laces, starting where the garment came over the swell of her hips, up past a waist he could span with his two hands, and on to where the whalebone garment stopped just below her breasts. Amy tired to tug the garment off and discovered it had shoulder straps. There was nothing to do but fold back the top of the dress and let Rain cut those too. The corset, damp with sweat, was removed, and Amy hurriedly rebuttoned Eleanor’s dress.

Rain held the stiff garment spread in his two hands, looked at it and shook his head.

“If that isn’t the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.” He bent the whalebones that were sewn into the material until they snapped and then tossed the garment up into a cedar tree that grew beside the trail. “Amy, see if she has more of those things in her trunk.”

“I don’t think we should rummage in her things. If she wants to torture herself, let her.”

“I’ll not be slowed down by a stubborn, vain woman making a fool of herself. That may be the thing to do in Louisville, but out here no one cares a whit about her waist.”

“She does.”

“She can wear whatever she wants or what Will wants when she gets to Belle Point. On the way there she’ll wear what I want her to wear, and it isn’t that bone thing,” Rain said curtly.

“Ye best be doin’ it, lass. This one’ll be wearin’ the thin’ for pure cussedness, so mad she’ll be.”

The smell of rose water wafted up from Eleanor’s trunk when Amy opened it. Amid the lacy undergarments, fancy nightwear, dresses, and petticoats she found two more corsets, one plain, one edged in lace. She took them out to Rain. He looked at them in disgust, then his eyes went to Amy.

“Do you and Libby wear these things?”

She shook her head and fought the desire to giggle. “But I saw one in Vincennes and Libby said Governor Harrison’s wife wears one.”

“Miss Woodbury will not wear these again,” he said and flung them, one at a time, up into the cedar tree, where they caught on a limb and dangled. The bizarre sight brought laughter bubbling out of Amy’s throat.

“Someone will get the surprise of his life when he comes along here and a corset falls out of a tree and hits him.”

Gavin chuckled and even Rain smiled—a little. Gavin pulled Eleanor’s arms up over her head and pumped them back and forth while Amy patted her cheeks with a wet cloth.

Even in a faint she was beautiful, Amy thought. The skin that stretched over her high cheekbones was flawless and contrasted greatly with the thick, dark lashes that lay on her cheeks, and the high, arched brows above her eyes. The hair that swept up from her forehead was as black as midnight and glistened in the sunlight.

Eleanor stirred and tried to loosen her arms from Gavin’s grasp. She frowned and made a small noise of irritation when he continued to raise her arms. She opened her eyes and looked straight up into his face.

“Ye’ll be fine as silk, lassie. Take a deep breath ’n lie still for a wee bit.” Gavin spoke gently, as if he were talking to a child.

“What happened?”

“You swooned,” Amy said. “Would you like a drink of water?”

“Yes, I would.”

Gavin helped Eleanor sit up. “I’ll be gettin’ it.”

Eleanor put her hands to her cheeks when she saw the pile of petticoats on the ground. “What . . . is that?”

“We took off your petticoats and corset,” Amy said gently. “The petticoats were weighing you down, and the corset was so tight you couldn’t breathe.”

“Why . . . why . . . how dare you do that to me!”

“I dared, Miss Woodbury,” Rain said. “Can you stand up? Your foolishness has delayed us long enough.”

Gavin returned with the water. Eleanor drank, and then he helped her to her feet. She sucked in a long, full breath and painfully straightened and looked up at Rain. Outlined against the sky he stood tall, broad-shouldered and hatless. The wind ruffled his dark hair, giving him a faintly satanic look. There was a tightly strung alertness about him, something primitive and menacing. Eleanor shook with weakness and fear, but her pride forced her to defy him.

“You had no right to do that. I’ll never forgive you. Never!”

“I don’t want your forgiveness. If I’m going to get you to Belle Point, I want
obedience,
and I will have it. Do you understand, Miss Woodbury?”

“I don’t seem to have much choice.”

“No, you don’t. Put her in the wagon, Gavin.” Rain mounted the dun. “We have to make up for the time we lost, Amy. We’ll push them hard for the next hour.”

Amy gathered up Eleanor’s petticoats and put them into the back of the wagon, then climbed on to the seat and waited for Gavin to help Eleanor. When she was seated and the wagon started, he went back to his horse.

Thoughts of Eleanor stayed in Gavin’s mind. When he had lifted her up on to the seat there had been no contortion of her beautiful features, no quivering lips, no tears, no outpouring of angry words coming from her soft, red mouth. She had looked utterly lonely and defeated as she sat there with her hands folded in her lap. And Gavin, thinking about it, was touched by the realization that the arrogant beauty was frightened despite her habitual air of confidence.

“I kept you covered while we took off your corset and petticoats,” Amy said. “They saw nothing that you need to feel ashamed about.”

Eleanor turned her head slowly and looked at Amy with dull, uninterested eyes, but she did not speak. She turned away and wearily brushed a strand of hair from her face. They rode in silence across a broad expanse of open prairie and up and over a thickly wooded hill. They traveled until the sun, a red glow in the west, slid behind the horizon. And still they kept going. At dusk Rain turned off the main trail and into a small glade beside a rivulet of water that came down out of the hills.

Darkness came on rapidly. They set up camp as they had done the night before except for the makeshift shelter. Neither Gavin nor Rain made a move to build one. The men tended the animals and Amy built a fire and put the kettle on to heat. A minimum of words passed between the three of them, and none at all came from Eleanor, who drew her shawl about her shoulders and walked down to the creek. Amy followed Eleanor, found the privacy she sought behind the bushes, then washed her face and hands in the cold water.

That night they ate the last of the eggs, the cooked meat and the bread Amy and Libby had prepared. As soon as the tea was hot, Rain put out the fire except for a few glowing embers.

“No point in calling attention to the fact that we’re here,” he said.

“Aye,” Gavin said. “From here to the river the toughs roam as thick as hair on a dog’s back.”

“Have you been here before, Gavin?” Amy asked.

“Aye. A time or two, but not much beyond. I be workin’ the Ohio from Pittsburgh to the big river.” While he was talking Eleanor got up and went to the wagon. The big man’s eyes followed her until she disappeared inside. “The lassie’s pride be hurtin’, I fear.”

“Better her pride now than her neck later on,” Rain said grimly. “It’ll not be easy going cross-country to the Arkansas. I’m thinking we’ll have to give up the wagon later on. I’d like to find some good riding mules for the women.”

“Goddamn mule is the stubbornest critter there be.” Gavin got out a long-stemmed pipe, packed it with tobacco, and lit it from a twig he set ablaze.

“They can be stubborn as a woman,” Rain said, and flashed Amy one of his rare smiles. “But they’ve got horse sense too. A mule doesn’t stray off or prance and kick when a snake crosses his path; he doesn’t fall off a mountain trail. For the mountains, give me a good stout mule anytime.”

“Ye may be right. But I’d soon walk as ride one of ’em.”

“If I run into someone I know over on the river, or if you do, Gavin, and you know he’s a good man, I’ll hire him on to go with us. We’ll need another watch.”

“I can take a watch, Rain.” Amy was cleaning up after the meal, rinsing the cups in the hot water from the kettle.

“I don’t want you to have to do that, Amy. The trip will be hard enough even if you get a full night’s sleep.” Rain got to his feet and slung his rifle over his shoulder. “Stamp out the coals when she’s through here, Gavin. I’ll be back in a while. Where did you figure to bed down?”

“By the tree, yon.” Gavin lifted his hand to a stand of trees a good six yards from the camp.

“I’ll take the other side.” Amy had straightened up and was looking from one man to the other. Rain put his hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you turn in, Amy?”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to take a look around. Gavin will be here.”

“Don’t treat me like a prairie flower, Rain. I’m not going to turn up my toes at the first sign of trouble.”

“I know you won’t, Amy. When I expect trouble, you’ll know it. Get a good night’s sleep.” He squeezed her shoulder and walked off into the darkness.

Amy watched him go. She knew Rain well enough to know that he did not lie. If he thought they were in any danger tonight he would have told her.

“He be a good mon, lass,” Gavin said.

“He was hard on Eleanor today.”

“Aye, but it had to be done. The lass twas wearin’ herself down. The mon knows what he be about.” Gavin got to his feet and stomped out the embers left by the fire. “Be ye ready to turn in?”

“Yes, it’s been a trying day.”

“That it has, lass. Night to ye.”

“Good night, Gavin.”

Amy was tired. Too tired even to think. She had scarcely slept the night before, and they had covered many miles that day. Inside the wagon she felt her way in the darkness until she came to the roll that was her bed. She threw out the pallet, eased herself down on it and took off her clothes. While she folded and stacked them in a neat pile, she wondered when she would get a chance to wash them. She slipped into her long nightdress, lay down and pulled the blanket up over her, stretched her tired muscles and sighed.

It was strange, she thought. The pallet wasn’t as hard as the night before. Her next and last thought before the dark curtain of sleep dropped over her was that it was really rather comfortable.

*   *

Rain moved cautiously through the trees, as silent as a shadow. The forest was still except for the usual night sounds. An owl hooted from a nearby tree before flying off on lazy wings in search of its nightly meal. A pack rat cowered at the sound, traveled in a nervous circle, and then scurried away on some venture of its own.

Away from the camp, Rain broke into a slow trot, dodging through the trees and jumping over deadfalls. He ran parallel with the trail they had passed over that day. Occasionally he stopped, listened, sniffed the night air, and went on. Rain was following up on a minute but nagging thought, a fragile suspicion that his wilderness sense had told him to pursue, and five miles from where he had left Gavin and the women he saw a flicker of light in the forest. His hunch had been right.

He moved closer, waited and listened. And then he heard the sound of a horse stamping on the thick sod. The sound was almost inaudible save to one whose wilderness-honed hearing could distinguish the slightest noise. The sound told him that one horse was tethered north of the campfire.

Rain approached the camp from the west so as not to alert the horse. His was a silent, shadowy figure, his buckskins only a shade lighter than the surrounding darkness. He squatted low in the brush, practically concealed by a deadfall, and concentrated all his attention on the figure beside the fire. One glance told him the man was a fool. A person with any sense at all would not be laying himself so open for attack. His fire was too bright and the green wood he was burning sent out smoke one could smell for miles. Anyone who wanted a horse or a gun had only to follow his nose to find one. The pilgrim sat silhouetted against the fire, a round straw hat on his head, a blanket about his shoulders and a cup in his hands. Rain noted the man’s rifle was ten feet away, propped against a tree.

Soberly Rain considered what to do. The poor devil wouldn’t live many nights if he didn’t exercise more caution. He thought of warning him, telling him to stay close behind them until they reached Kaskaskia. But then again, it could be a trap. The man could draw a gun from under the blanket and shoot him. He didn’t think that was likely, but he wasn’t ready to risk it. He was not responsible for this fool, if that was really what he was.
Don’t walk into trouble,
wait until trouble comes to you,
Rain remembered Juicy saying to him when he first went to live at Quill’s Station.

That afternoon Rain had ridden ahead, found a tree on a hilltop, climbed it and scanned the trail ahead and behind. There was nothing ahead, but behind them he saw that the wagon they had passed that morning had stopped in the middle of the trail. The farmer’s wife was building a fire, the children scampering around, but there was no sign of the farmer. A horse was cropping grass nearby. The farmer had had only scrawny mules. It had to mean that they had met someone on a horse and he and the farmer had gone into the woods. The rider could have easily caught up with them today, but he did not. That was what had sent Rain on this night errand.

Rain backed away from the pilgrim’s camp. Gliding silently through the trees, he hit the trail they had traveled that day and trotted back toward the wagon.

*   *

Amy awakened and knew it was the hour before dawn. The birds in the trees above the wagon were chirping. She crawled on her knees to the end of the wagon and looked out. Rain was squatting beside a fire and, strung out on a spit above it, the carcasses of two small animals were roasting. The aroma that came from the cooking meat made her stomach rumble. She dressed, picked up her hairbrush and quietly left the wagon.

“I brought up a bucket of water, Amy. It’s there by the washbasin,” Rain spoke with his back to her.

“Do you have eyes in the back of your head too?”

“I was listening for you. Your buckskins scraped on the tailgate.”

Amy went into the bushes for her morning relief, then to the washbasin Rain had set out on a stump. She splashed her face and hands, dried them on the tail of her shirt, and then began to brush the snarls out of her hair so that she could braid it.