Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (28 page)

“Speaking of Gavin. Don’t be practicing your witchcraft on him, either.” Amy spoke sharply.

“Do you want him too?” Eleanor’s eyes narrowed curiously as she took in Amy’s set features.

“Don’t be foolish. I
like
Gavin. I don’t want him heartbroken when you’re handed over to Will Bradford.”

“Gavin won’t be heartbroken. He’ll be glad to be rid of me. He thinks I’m utterly useless. He told me so.”

“Not
utterly
useless,” Amy said cynically. “Gavin has urges like any other man.”

“He’s not even hinted at such a thing,” Eleanor said heatedly.

“He pinched you on the bottom, didn’t he?”

“That was different. I’d been . . . hateful.”

“Farr says reformed rogues make the best family men. Gavin’s brawled up and down the river all his adult life. The only home he has ever known has been keelboats and taverns. When he settles down I hope he can find a woman who’ll stand by him, give him a family, help him put down roots on some land. He needs to have a place to call his own and a woman who loves him above all else.”

“You’ve got him all figured out, haven’t you?”

“One thing about riding all day,” Amy said thoughtfully, “it gives you time to think. You might try it, Eleanor.”

“You don’t think much of me, do you?” Eleanor asked, then went on without waiting for Amy’s answer. “I guess I don’t blame you. I’ve
been
thinking. Gavin is right. I’m useless. I can’t think of one thing I can do better than you.”

“With your looks you don’t have to
do
anything,” Amy mumbled.

“I used to think that,” Eleanor said slowly. “All my life I’ve been used as a decoration. I didn’t have to do anything but sit and be pretty and use nice manners. Aunt Gilda used to say the younger and more helpless I pretended to be, the more men would want to take care of me. It certainly didn’t work with Rain . . . or Gavin.”

*   *   *

An hour passed, then another. Amy squinted her eyes under the lowered hat brim and studied the terrain, trying to put thoughts of Rain in the back of her mind. The trail ran alongside a stand of trees so thick she could see into it for no more than ten feet. To the left was a meadow of rye grass. A flock of crows came and settled in the trees ahead, the sun shining on their blue-black wings, their noisy chatter breaking the silence.

Amy remembered Juicy telling her to watch the birds and they would tell her what was up ahead. He had said that the gathering of crows meant something nearby was dead or dying. She refused to let herself think the flock of cawing crows had anything to do with Rain, even though he had been gone for more than three hours.

When the shot sounded, the crows rose noisily from the treetops, clapped their wings and soared away like a drifting black cloud.

Amy sucked in a sharp breath and held it until her tortured lungs released it in short puffs. She thought her heart would choke her or stop thumping and never start again. The sound had come from the dense woods ahead and to the right.

Gavin stopped. Amy pulled the mules to a halt. They waited, but heard no other sound. Gavin gave the signal for them to wait and rode to the crest of the hill. At the top he took off his hat and waved for them to join him. Ten long minutes dragged by while the mules pulled the wagon up the hill. Finally they topped the rise and Amy could see what was ahead.

Relief washed over Amy like a warm tide when Rain came out of the woods to speak to Gavin. To her dismay, she suddenly felt like crying and was terribly afraid she was going to. She swallowed and blinked her eyes rapidly. He was safe! Discomfort, anger and all else paled in comparison to the relief she felt seeing him standing there. Her eyes clung to his tall figure as the mules continued their slow plodding gait toward him. She thanked the Lord her weepy mood had drained away by the time the wagon reached him and she stopped the team.

After speaking to Gavin, Rain walked toward the wagon. Tally had moved up from behind and sat his horse close to Amy on the wagon seat, so that he was between her and Rain when he walked past to get his horse. If Rain even looked at her she was unaware of it. He mounted his horse and rode into the woods.

“Rain brought down fresh meat,” Gavin called. “We’ll keep on. He be catchin’ up.”

Tight-lipped, her anger stirred anew at Rain’s indifference, Amy slapped the reins against the backs of the mules with unnecessary force and the wagon moved.

Some time later Tally rode up to tell her to stop because Rain wanted to load the carcass of a deer onto the back of the wagon. Amy pulled up on the reins but looked straight ahead when Rain rode past the wagon, not giving him a chance to snub her again.

The day got no better as it wore on; if anything, it got worse. The trail was rocky and fine particles of grit flung up by the mule’s hooves hit them in the face. Amy’s hands in the leather gloves were sweaty and took on weight until her arms felt as if each were holding a hundred pounds. The trail ran along the curve of a low hill that was covered with bright spring blossoms. To the north was a wide marshland of reed and bogs that stretched to the low foothills.

By late afternoon Amy’s bottom was beginning to feel as if it were glued to the wagon seat. Eleanor seemed to be dozing. When the sunlight dimmed, she glanced up.

“Is it going to storm?” Eleanor asked before Amy could speak. Then she gasped. “Oh, my goodness! What is it?”

A vast cloud of birds came winging from the south. Possibly a late flock migrating north, Amy thought. She stared at the sky, darkened by the bodies of countless birds. A growing sound of beating wings rose to a loud crescendo when the flock neared. She barely heard Eleanor’s repeated whimpers of fright as the dark-haired woman covered her face with her hands and cringed back against the canvas that covered the wagon bed.

“Passenger pigeons!” Amy yelled.

The frightened mules suddenly picked up speed. Amy held them with all her strength but couldn’t slow them. Tally raced up from behind the wagon and threw himself onto one of the mules.

“Haw! Haw!” he shouted.

Tally hung on to the harness, his feet braced against the crosstree. The mules slowed to a stop but continued to dance nervously. He slipped to the ground and stood between them, holding them in check. Amy sighed with relief and let the reins fall loose in her hands.

When she and Liberty had first come to the Wabash, they had heard tales about the incredible flocks of passenger pigeons. At that time it was hard for her to believe the vast numbers that were reported. Now she realized they were true. The pigeons were said to be a scourge, worse than a swarm of locusts to the settlers in the midwest. They had been known to strip entire farms, eating crops and everything else edible in a matter of hours. When they roosted for the night they would occupy the trees in an area of ten square miles. Many branches would be found broken the next morning from the weight of perched birds who crowded too closely. Farmers shot down as many as they could for food, and stuffed their pillows and mattresses with the feathers. But beyond that, the winged destroyers meant only ruin to the struggling settlers.

Some of the birds began to dart down at whatever was edible in the marsh. Rain tied his mount to the back of the wagon and got out his rifle. His shot rang out as soon as a bird came within range. It dropped to the ground with dying squawks. Gavin went to fetch it. He came back dangling the bird by the legs. It was at least twenty inches long with a blue-gray back and a red breast. It had a black bill, bloodred eyes and bright red legs.

As more birds descended Rain shot again and again. By the time the flock had passed over, a dozen shots had felled a dozen birds. They were put on the tailgate of the wagon along with the deer carcass, and Rain gave the order to start moving again.

The sun was setting when they came to a small river and a cleared area in which crops were planted between the stumps of felled trees. The settler’s home was a dugout in the side of a dirt hill. Amy knew that many settlers in their first years did not immediately build a cabin because it took too much time. It was simpler and easier to merely dig out a hollow in a convenient place and put up a log front to create a snug home that stayed warm in the winter.

Rain rode ahead to meet the farmer who stood in front of his home with a flintlock aimed at him. The burly man’s head jutted forward. He shielded his eyes against the setting sun with a callused palm. When Rain drew near, he lowered the gun and gave a shout of welcome.

“By Gawd, Tallman. I ne’er knowed it was you. Ain’t seen ya fer a good long spell.”

“Howdy, Badker.” Rain dismounted and shook the man’s hand.

“I got to be knowin’ visitors is friendly.”

“Don’t blame you at all. I was glad to see that flock of pigeons passed your place. I was afraid I’d find you picked clean.”

“Me’n the woman was holdin’ our breath fer fear they’d light. Thank the good Lord they kept agoin’. None came down fer me to even shoot at.”

“We got a few. There’s a mite more meat than we can use. We’d be glad for you to take it off our hands.”

“We’d be obliged, if’n yo’re sure it’s more ’n ya can use up.” Badker’s eyes went past Rain to the wagon. “Ain’t never knowed ya to be travelin’ with folk, Tallman. It’s what fooled me. They goin’ to settle hereabouts?”

“No. They’re going on south. How are the missus and the boys?”

“Fine. Fine. Tell the folks to light,” Badker invited heartily. “I’ll have the woman stir up some vittles.”

“No need for that. We’ll camp down there alongside the river. Here are a half dozen birds.” Rain took them off the wagon and placed them on the ground. “I’ll dress out the deer and leave some of it in the morning.”

“Why, thanky. I’ll hone up my knife ’n give ya a hand. Vonnie!” he shouted. “Come on out. Ya’ve pined ta jaw with womenfolk. Here’s two of ’em.”

The farmer pulled back the doeskin flap covering the door of the dugout. A woman came out. She was not pretty, but she was pleasant looking. Her dress was neat and clean and made of dyed butternut homespun. It was faded from many washings, as was her husband’s shirt and the clothing of the two children that hung on her skirts. Her straight black hair was crowned with a crisp, snow-white cap that was slightly askew, as if put there hastily while the visitors approached. She greeted Rain with a warm smile and shook his hand, but her eyes strayed to Eleanor and Amy on the wagon seat.

Amy saw loneliness in the woman’s eyes. During one of the long hunting trips she made with Juicy, she had seen that same look in the eyes of women who had spent months in a cabin without seeing anyone other than their husbands and children.

“Hello. I’m Amy, and this is Eleanor.”

“I’m Vonnie.” The woman came forward, the children behind her and still holding on to her skirt.

Amy climbed down from the wagon and shook the woman’s hand. “Who is this?” she asked and peeked around at the small boy who hid his face quickly.

“Denny and young Bud.” Vonnie pulled the children out from behind her and commanded, “Say hello to the lady.” The boys were so bashful they would only peek at Amy and then hide their faces.

“Hello, boys.” Amy had a special fondness for children and it showed when she was around them.

“They don’t see many folks,” Vonnie said apologetically.

“Would you like to ride down to the river?” Amy asked.

Both boys looked at their mother. When she smiled and nodded their faces broke into grins.

“Will it be a bother?” Vonnie asked.

“Of course not.”

Gavin had tied his horse to the back of the wagon. He lifted first one boy and then the other up on the seat beside Eleanor. He climbed up beside them.

“Ye want me to be takin’ them down, Miss Amy?” he asked after he was already on the seat.

“If you want to. I’ll walk down.”

Vonnie and Amy waved to the boys. Amy knew that Vonnie was talking to her about what a treat it was for the boys to ride in the wagon, but Amy’s attention was on Rain. She had looked up to see him watching her. His face was grim and bleak. He caught Amy’s eyes with his and held them. He didn’t look away until Badker, coming from the dugout, was beside him, talking and proudly showing him a large whetstone.

Tally had dismounted and hovered anxiously near Amy, holding the reins of his horse.

“Go on down, Tally,” Amy said. “I’ll walk.”

“Is he your man?” Vonnie asked after Tally left them.

“No. He’s my father’s stepson.” Amy turned her face toward Vonnie and looked at the other woman. “Rain Tallman is my man.”

Vonnie’s eyes went to Rain, then back to Amy to study her face. She nodded her head as if pleased and smiled with her eyes as well as her mouth.

“You’re a mate for him. He’s pure hickory, that’s certain. We set store by Mr. Tallman.”

“Does he stop here often?”

“Not often. But one time he come in the nick of time. My man was down flat on his back. It was dead of winter ’n he’d been ailing for quite a spell. We’d had no meat for weeks ’n I had dragged in all the deadfalls I could handle to use for firewood. Mr. Tallman come by ’n stayed more ’n a week helpin’ out. You got a good man, miss.”

“I think so,” Amy said softly and swallowed hard. She smiled at Vonnie with her lips, but her eyes remained cheerless. “I’d better go on down and start supper.” Then on impulse she added, “Why don’t you come down and eat with us? We have plenty.”

“I’d like that. Me ’n the boys picked berries this morning ’n I made a berry cobbler. I’ll bring it ’n milk to put on it. Send the boys back so they can help me ’n an I can get ’em cleaned up.”

“I’ll send them back,” Amy promised, and started down the path toward where the wagon had stopped beside the river.

“Wait, Amy.” Rain came toward her leading his horse. “I’ll give you a ride.” He mounted and held out his hand. She grasped it to swing up behind him. “No. Up here,” he said, and took his foot out of the stirrup.

When Amy put her foot where Rain’s had been he grasped her beneath her arms and lifted her up to sit across his thighs. His arms went around her and he pulled her, none too gently, back against him. He touched his heels to the side of the horse and the big dun moved slowly down the path.