Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (29 page)

“He’s a fair man. He’s doing the best he can to keep the farm going.”

“The main thing they do is make . . . whiskey.”

“There’s no law against it.”

“He’d make me stay here, if he could.”

“He knows better than that. He has nothing to say about you. Lenny and Bernie may have done us a favor. You’re my wife now, my responsibility. When the time comes, you’ll go home with me.”

Mercy encircled his waist with her arms and tilted her face so she could look up at him. “I wonder what’s happening at home. Do you think Gavin and Eleanor got back from Vincennes?”

“I’m sure they’re back by now. Gavin has several big orders for lumber to fill.”

“Was Mike going to send Papa a letter telling him about us coming to Kentucky?”

“No, I asked him not to. Without knowing the whole story, Mamma would worry.”

“Don’t you know that the whole town is talking about us leaving together? Granny Halpen’s mouth has been worked so hard, it’s probably sore by now,” Mercy said with a giggle in her voice.

“She’s having the time of her life,” Daniel replied with a chuckle.

“Daniel, what if Papa Farr hadn’t found me? I’d not have known you!” Mercy’s arms tightened around him.

“Somebody up there must have made plans for us, honey.”

“I like it when you call me that. You didn’t used to.”

“I know. I called you brat, or silly girl. You’re grownup now, but your mouth is still getting you into trouble. Tonight when you got your back up over Gid, I thought I might have to fight Hod over you.”

“I was right, you know. His attitude made me mad! I couldn’t keep quiet.”

Daniel laughed a deep, chuckling laugh that vibrated against Mercy’s cheek. “You just thought you’d burst if you couldn’t say what was on your mind, didn’t you?”

“Right’s right!”

“You’re not going to change their way of thinking. Their way of life is as deeply ingrained in them as yours is in you.”

“I had to try.”

“Why don’t you go in and go to bed? You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“That’s what you said last night. You were so angry at Lenny and Bernie—”

“We agreed not to talk about that. We’re going to let it rest for now and take one day at a time. We’ll have plenty of time to talk about it on the way home.”

“But . . . what about tonight?”

“What about it? We’ll go in and go to bed. It would be hard to explain if you slept in there and I slept out here.”

“But . . .”

“But what? We were together in the same room at the inn that first night. We slept side by side the next night. Tonight will be no different. Are you afraid that I’ll . . . take advantage of you?”

“No!” She drew back and looked into his face. “You know better than that! You’re just so calm, so reasonable. Sometimes I don’t know how you put up with me.”

“It’s easy. I’m used to it.”

“Did you like kissing me last night?”

“Couldn’t you tell?”

“You left so quickly. I thought you didn’t like it.” Tired but feeling happy and safe in his arms, Mercy loved the feeling of his fingers moving up and down her spine.

“Of course I liked it,” he said matter-of-factly. He wanted to tell her that he loved it, that the most gut-wrenching thing he had ever had to do was to walk away and leave her. Instead he said lightly, “It was the first time I kissed my wife.”

“I liked kissing you too. It wasn’t a brotherly kiss, was it?”

“No. It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Daniel—”

Mercy didn’t know what she had intended to say, because Daniel silenced her. She was looking up at him. His chin scraped her forehead as he lowered his head and brushed his mouth against hers. It was the softest of touches. He looked into her eyes, then his fingers slowly spread against the side of her face, and he held her head to his shoulder. Almost mindless with wanting, he kissed her again. The soft, hesitant caress changed to one of intense longing, and he delved into the sweetness of her mouth as if he could never get enough of her. Her mouth quivered weakly under the persuasion of his kiss. The searching movement parted her lips, and the tip of his tongue slipped inside her mouth. Spasms of unfamiliar joy obliterated all from Mercy’s mind. She wanted him closer, closer. Her insides strained, reaching out for fulfillment of the strange, delicious hunger he aroused in her.

Daniel knew he should stop and was about to pull away when her hand moved up and her palm cupped his face. His fingers traced her spine to her hips, caressing, while his mouth pressed against hers with a hungry urgency. His rapidly disintegrating common sense told him he was treading on dangerous ground, that this was not the time or the place to consummate their marriage. It could leave her dissatisfied and humiliated. He caressed her upper lip with the tip of his tongue before he raised his head to look at her.

Her eyes were misty, and her parted lips beckoned him to taste them again. He wanted to say something that made his action sensible. But the truth was that he had done it simply because he could not help himself.

“Honey,” he whispered thickly, “I think you’d better go on in and go to bed.”

“Are you coming in?” Her soft whisper came from beneath his chin.

“In a while.” His mouth traced a pattern along her jawline. His body throbbed with want, and it took a supreme act of will to let his arms drop away from her. Only God knew how much he wanted her, but he could wait.

Why does he have to be so dammed noble? Mercy thought. Her insides warmed with pleasure when she looked into his quiet face and dark eyes. She didn’t want to leave the warmth of his arms. She could hear the scrape of his whiskers on her cheek as she laid hers against it for a brief moment, could feel the pounding of his heart against her breasts. Then there was nothing to do but get to her feet and into the house.

Mercy groped her way to the bed and found her carpetbag at the end of it. She pawed in her bag for her nightdress, undressed, and slipped the gown over her head. She took the pins out of her hair and, not knowing a safe place to put them, dropped them in her shoe. Just as she placed her folded dress on the floor beside her shoes, one of the hogs under the house bumped the floor beneath her feet. Shaking her head at the absurdity of it, she got into the bed, moved over next to the wall, and pulled the quilt up around her neck.

Mercy’s eyes probed the darkness toward the door. Didn’t these people ever close doors in this house? It seemed to Mercy that the family lived outside as much as they lived inside. Her mind roamed over the events of the day. Her mother was a gentle woman yet had an iron will. She’d done something right because her family loved her fiercely. Mercy thought about the death crown her mother had said was to be hers. What did it mean? Was something of her father holding together the feathers that had been in his pillow when he died?

Mercy’s thoughts turned to home—Quill’s Station. How surprised they would be to discover that she and Daniel were wed. She dozed as visions of her and Daniel at home floated through her mind.

Sometime later, when the quilt lifted, letting the cold air hit her warm body, it brought Mercy groggily out of a sound sleep. Daniel had slipped into the bed. He lay on the edge, his back to her. Only half awake, she pulled the quilt up over his shoulders, and sighing contentedly, she snuggled against his bare back. Her arm worked its way around him. He took her hand in his and held her palm flat against his chest. Warm, content, and happy, her cheek resting on his back between his shoulder blades, she went back to sleep.

Sleep for Daniel did not come easy. The feel of her firm breasts against his back, her knees behind his, her breath on his shoulders, sent a fiery message to his loins. All those nights of aching loneliness were nothing compared to the misery of having her cuddle against him and not be free to turn to her for the comfort only she could give.

When he was sure he wouldn’t awaken her, he turned over, slid his arm beneath her shoulders, and held her to him. She lay quietly in his arms, soft, fragrant, trusting. Love and tenderness welled within him. This woman, this sweet woman, was his whole world. He had been bound to her since the moment they met in the wilderness along the Wabash. Feeling like a thief, he settled his mouth gently on hers and kissed her moist, parted lips.

He could feel the steady beat of her heart against his hand, could feel each of her ribs through the thin nightdress. His fingers inched upward until his thumb nudged the fullness of her breast.

Mercy stirred and snuggled closer, pressing her miraculous softness against him. Her thigh came in contact with his hard, throbbing sex, which strained against his britches. A small grunt came from his lips before he could hold it back. He quickly moved his hips away from the sweet contact and gently turned her so he could fold his long frame snugly around her. Mercy cushioned the side of her cheek on his arm and wiggled her backside against him to get more comfortable. Kissing her shoulder, her hair, hungry for the taste of any part of her, he silently told her of his love for her. She was his, all his, for the rest of their lives.

Coming out of a deep sleep, Mercy was aware that she was wrapped in Daniel’s arms, her back pressed against his chest, his knees behind hers. A wonderfully safe and happy feeling unfolded within her. She almost feared that this was a dream from which she was bound to awaken alone in her bed.

Daniel, darling, I love you.
She wanted to sleep in his arms every night for the rest of her life. Reaching for his hand, she pulled his arm up until it rested between her breasts, placed her cheek on the palm of his hand, and went back to sleep.

W
hen Mercy awakened, she could see the shape of the cupboard because of a faint light coming in the open doorway. She knew it was dawn because of the racket made by the birds in the trees above the house, and because the hogs beneath it were moving again. She felt in the place where Daniel had lain beside her. It was cold, which meant he had left their bed a while ago. She lay for a moment and thought about how wonderful it had been to sleep in his arms, how warm and protected she’d felt. What would it be like to lie beside him naked, become one with him? A thrill tingled down her spine. Only her thin nightdress had been between her breast and his bare chest. He had worn his britches, but his feet had been bare, and in the night she had rested the bottoms of her feet on the tops of his. Had he kissed her during the night, or had she only dreamed it?

Now she could hear the steady thuds of an ax hitting wood and smell fresh wood smoke. The younger Baxters would be coming down from the loft. She got up and dressed quickly, listening for sounds from overhead. After running the brush through her hair she twisted it and pinned it to the top of her head, repacked her carpetbag, and set it on the bed.

The morning was cool, but no fire had been built in the kitchen. Mercy wrapped her shawl about her shoulders and went out onto the porch. A fire blazed in the fireplace in the yard, and Daniel was in front of it adding more wood. Martha stood at the table slicing meat and placing long, thick strips in a skillet. Mercy was surprised to see her baby sleeping snugly in a sling on her back.

“Morning. I’ll help you, Martha, as soon as I wash.”

Daniel turned on hearing her voice. It was still too dark to see his eyes, but Mercy could feel them on her as she went around to the washbench at the back of the house. Hod was there, splashing water on his face.

“Morning, Hod.”

“Mornin’.” He didn’t say anything more, and after he dried his face he went into his mother’s room. The doors were closed, and smoke came from the chimney. Streaks of light, from a candle or a lamp, came through the cracks in the door.

Mercy wondered if she should look in on her mother or go help Martha with the morning meal. She decided to wait until Hod came out of her mother’s room before she went in.

“Martha, how is Mamma this morning?”

“She jist layin’ there. Don’t seem to be hurtin’ none.”

“Did you get up with her in the night?”

“Only fer a sip a water. She’s sinkin’,” Martha said, and looked down at her feet.

“Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“She ain’t wantin’ us to do nothin’.”

“Oh, but—”

“It’s what Maw wants,” Martha said firmly. “Ain’t nothin’ can mend a wore-out heart, nohow.” She went to the big skillet on the grate and forked the meat over.

Mercy followed her. “What can I do?”

“Ya can add that meal ta the pot when it boils.” She nodded to the iron kettle hanging on a spit over the flames.

Mercy added the cornmeal to the water a little at a time, stirring it with a big wooden paddle so it would be smooth. The rest of the family came out onto the porch, stretched, yawned, and went around to the washing trough. When Hod came from his mother’s room, he spoke quietly to Martha for several minutes, then took his place at the table.

While the men were eating, Mercy went to sit with her mother. It was warm, even hot, in the closed room. She put her shawl on the back of the chair and sat down. A small, weak voice came from the bed.