Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (6 page)

“’Bye, Miss Quill.”

“Good-bye, Timmy. Put your hat on before you go out.”

“’Bye, Miss Quill. See you tomorrow.”

“Good-bye, Arabella.”

“I doubt if you see me here again after I tell Pa what happened today . . . or rather last night,” Mary said with a sly, knowing smile as she crowded out the door.

Mercy caught her breath sharply, and her mouth went dry. Mary’s words stabbed at her, their implication sending a quiver through her body. Because she was determined not to let the spiteful girl know she was on the verge of crying, she steadied her voice when she called after her.

“If your father doesn’t want you to come to school, Mary, it’s all right with me. It’s a pity. But there isn’t a law against being ignorant.”

Mercy battled the storm that pounded inside her, threatening to accelerate beyond her control while she waited for the last student to leave. Finally a small boy trudged out the door, and Daniel came in. Water dripped from the brim of his hat and from his cowhide coat.

Nothing would stop the tears that came to Mercy’s eyes when she saw him. She turned swiftly and went to get her shawl. She knew it was stupid to cry, but there was nothing she could do about the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

Daniel followed her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.

“That bad, huh?” His face was full of concern.

“I’m just mad, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” he teased. The soft, caring light in the brown eyes that twinkled down at her made the tears come again.

“Mad and scared. I’m mad because those Baxters came to Quill’s Station looking for me, and madder that they came here to the school. Within an hour everything that was said will be all over town. Mary Knibee caught what Bernie said about you spending the night at the house. She said she doubts she’ll be back to school after her pa hears about it.”

“I’d think you’d be glad of that. Isn’t she more trouble than all the others put together?”

“She’s trouble, but I wouldn’t be glad! Mary can’t read. She’ll go through life not being able to read if she doesn’t come back to school.” Heavy, wet lashes lifted from tormented eyes that shone brightly.

“But you can’t teach her if she doesn’t want to learn. As for me being there at the house with you, those who want to think the worst will think it regardless of whether I spent the night or not.”

“Damned old busybodies!”

“Don’t swear, love. I’ve heard Mamma say that a hundred times. Dry your eyes. I’m going to take you to the store. You can stay with Mike while I do a few things; then I’ll come back for you.”

“Oh, Daniel! I’ve cried more in the last two days than I’ve cried in a long time. You used to tell me to dry up. You hated for me to cry. Remember?”

“I remember, and I still hate for you to cry,” he told her quietly. He pulled a piece of oiled cloth out from under his coat and draped it around her shoulders. “I didn’t think you had anything to keep you dry, so I got this from Mike at the store. Put your shawl over your head and let’s go. I think it’s set in to rain all night.”

“Daniel.” Mercy placed her hand on his arm to stop him when he went toward the door. “I’ve got to know . . . something. This finding out about my . . . folks has been such a shock to me. I keep thinking . . . things.”

Daniel watched her struggle to speak calmly.

“Of course it’s a shock.” His eyes held hers and he touched her cheek with his fingertips. “What
things
are you thinking about? And what do you need to know that’s so important it makes you look like a frightened little rabbit?” Daniel spoke gently, but inside he had bitter thoughts. Those sonofabitches! He could kill them for what they had done to her.

“Do you . . . feel different about me now that you know the kind of people I came from?” Her voice reflected the misery in her soul.

“Do I feel
different
about you? No, dammit, no! Why would I? Do you feel different? Is that what’s bothering you?”

“I feel as if I don’t know where I belong anymore. It’s like I don’t belong to
anyone
!” A sob caught in the back of her throat.

“Mercy, Mercy . . .” His arms were a safe haven around her. She leaned against him and hid her face in the warm flesh of his throat. He hugged her tightly, and his voice came from close to her ear. “I don’t want you to feel that way. You
do
belong to someone. Believe me, you do.”

Mercy wanted to tell him how much his words meant to her, but the flood of emotion she had held in check all day broke loose. She cried as if her heart would break. Never before had he seen her let down her barriers like this. Daniel held her tightly to him and stroked her hair until she was quiet. Then he put his fingers beneath her chin and raised her face so he could look down into her tear-wet eyes.

“Are you all right now?” he asked anxiously.

Mercy took a deep breath. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for. You deserved a good cry after all you’ve been through last night and today. I’ll bank the fire so the place won’t burn down during the night, and we’ll go home.”

I
t was still raining when Mercy and Daniel stepped up onto the board porch fronting the store. Daniel opened the door and they went inside. It was dark and gloomy, but toward the back a lamp cast a circle of light. The store was like a second home to Mercy. She had grown up among the kegs of salt, stacks of pelts, bolts of cloth, tools, harnesses, guns, and gunpowder. The smells of leather, spices, and oil-brushed iron tools were nothing new to her. She didn’t even notice them anymore.

Mercy went into the store feeling as if she were wrung out. She was tired and sleepy, and her hands were icy. She longed to go home to her attic room, crawl into her warm soft bed, and find oblivion in sleep.

Weaving his way between stacks of goods, Mike came to meet Mercy and Daniel with a worried look on his face. A few years older than Daniel, he had come to Quill’s Station ten years ago without family or friends and had been made welcome by Farrway and Liberty Quill. He was now considered one of the family.

“What went on down at the schoolhouse, Dan? Mary Knibee came in when she saw her pa’s wagon out front. That girl’s got a nasty mouth.”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later unless Mercy wants to. I want her to stay here with you for a while, Mike. I’ve got to go down to the mill. I’ll come back and take her home.”

“Well . . . sure.” Mike hesitated, his eyes going from Mercy to Daniel. “But there’s someone in the back room that wants to talk to you.”

“Who is it?”

“He says he’s Levi Coffin.”

“The Quaker from Newport?”

“The same.”

Mike was not as tall or as heavy as Daniel, but he was broad-shouldered and had a head of thick russet hair combed back from his forehead. His brown eyes were clear and anxious as he looked closely at Mercy. Mike usually had a smile on his pleasant, if not handsome, face, but the smile was missing now as he turned to meet Daniel’s level gaze.

Daniel took his time in replying, first lifting the wet cloth from around Mercy’s shoulders and hanging it over a stack of coiled rope, then removing his hat and his wet coat.

“I guess I’d better go talk to him.”

“There’s something else, Dan. He’s got a Negro girl and an infant with him.”

Mercy looked quickly at Daniel to see how he reacted to this news. Daniel’s dark brows went up a fraction; other than that, his expression was as unconcerned as before.

“Stay here with Mike.”

Mike moved close to Mercy and placed his hand on her arm as if to hold her there. Daniel’s dark eyes swept slowly over the two of them before he walked away, the heels of his heavy boots making a hollow sound on the plank floor. He went into Mike’s room and closed the door.

“Come on over to the stove, Mercy,” Mike said when he saw her shiver. “It’s the last of March, and it’s colder than it was in January.”

“It’s because it’s so damp.”

“When are you letting school out?”

“I had planned on the first week in April. The children have to help put the crops in. I don’t dare try to hold them longer than that. It seems the school year gets shorter every year for the boys and older girls. I can’t start in the fall until the crops are harvested, and I have to close in early spring.”

“How long will the McCourtneys be gone?”

Mercy held her hands toward the heat coming from the stove. “I thought you knew. Eleanor said a couple of weeks. Gavin said ten days.”

“It’ll be a couple of weeks, then.”

The words were spoken without sarcasm. It was a well-known fact that Eleanor could persuade her husband to do most anything up to a point. But when the big Scot put his foot down, Eleanor toed the line.

Mercy rubbed her palms together and watched as Mike lifted a lid from the stove and inserted a short piece of wood. When a murmur of voices reached them, she saw Mike glance toward the back room. He filled the stove, then went to the door to look out. He stood there for a long while with his hands clasped behind his back as if in heavy thought.

It wasn’t like Mike to ignore her, and after a while Mercy began to feel uncomfortable. She wanted to ask him what Mary Knibee had said, but he was plainly avoiding any further conversation with her.

“Mercy.” Daniel’s voice broke the silence. “Will you come back here?”

Mike whirled around when Daniel spoke, and Mercy was almost sure he was going to say something. But he didn’t. He turned back to look out into the dreary, wet, late afternoon.

Daniel stood in the doorway of Mike’s living quarters, and when Mercy reached him, he stepped aside to let her enter the room. She was not as familiar with Mike’s room as she was with the store, but she had been here before. It was a big square room with a bed built into the corner, a table, a bench, a washstand, and a large chair beside the fireplace. Mike had made it a comfortable and attractive place with a curtain on the window and a colorful patchwork quilt on the bed. Mercy, however, did not notice any of these things. Her eyes went to the woman huddled on the bench with a babe in her arms, then to the tall man with the hawklike features who stood beside her.

“This is Mr. Levi Coffin,” Daniel said. “Miss Mercy Quill, sir.”

“Farrway Quill’s daughter?” The sharp eyes bored into Mercy’s.

“Foster daughter,” Mercy replied evenly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Coffin. Do you know my father?”

“I’ve not had the pleasure, but I’m hoping to in the near future.”

“We need your help, Mercy.” Since Mercy’s head came to a little above Daniel’s shoulder, she had to tilt her head to look up at him. “Mr. Coffin has been honest with me. The woman is a runaway slave. He’s trying to get her up into the Iowa Territory. Her man is there working in the lead mines. She’s been whipped, and her back’s a mass of welts. I didn’t want to get you involved in this, but we need to get her into good enough shape so that she can travel tomorrow.”

Mercy turned sympathetically to the thin black girl hunched on the bench. She had not taken her eyes from Levi Coffin’s face. She looked at him as if he were her savior. The babe in her arms was wrapped in a piece of dirty blanket, and from the odor she could tell the child had messed and the mother had been unable to clean it. Its little head seemed too heavy for its neck, and Mercy could see the veins throbbing in its temples. The tall, hawk-faced man was silent. He watched Mercy closely to gauge her reactions.

“What do you want me to do?” Mercy asked in breathless pity for the poor creature huddled before her.

“Tend to her back and do what you can for the baby. She doesn’t have enough milk for it. There’s something else. The man she ran from, the one that whipped her and is after her, is Hammond Perry.”

Mercy looked up at Daniel quickly. “Hammond Perry? Papa’s old enemy?”

“The same. He’d like nothing better than to find her here. He could accuse Farr of hiding a runaway slave before the state legislature to try to ruin him.”

“Papa wouldn’t turn her away because he was afraid of
that
!” Mercy said angrily. “You know how Papa feels about slavery.”

“I know. And I know how he feels about Hammond Perry, and Perry about him. Perry hasn’t forgotten that he tried to get Papa hung for treason twenty years ago, failed, and lost face with old Zachary Taylor.”

“The last we heard, Hammond Perry was in the keelboat business over at Kaskaskia.”

“He’s in the slave-breeding business now, miss,” the Quaker said, his voice stiff with indignation. “He and a fellow named John Crenshaw have leased the salt lands down near Shawneetown. They rent slaves from across the line to labor in the mines. Ah, miss, those slaves belong to landowners who rent them out in the winter months when crops have been harvested. That way the owners can keep from feeding them in the slack season. Crenshaw and Perry hope to develop a breed of Negroes of exceptional strength to stand the arduous labor in the mines.”

“That’s the most horrible thing I ever heard!” Mercy gasped.