Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (38 page)

“Mr. Washington say me someday get clock.” She sat down in the rocking chair and rocked so hard Liberty was afraid she would tip over backward. “Fine chair.” She got up from the chair and roamed around the room. She looked, stroked, touched and marveled at everything in the cabin.

Mercy stirred and let out her usual cry. “Pee, pee.”

Sugar Tree went to the bunk and knelt down. “Fine girl. Fine boy.”

Liberty was afraid Mercy would be frightened. But the child looked at Sugar Tree’s smiling face and held up her arms. Sugar Tree picked her up and held her carefully.

“Fine girl, fine girl,” she said over and over.

“Pee, pee,” Mercy said again.

Liberty didn’t know if Sugar Tree understood or if it was merely instinct, but she took Mercy outside, lifted the shirt she used as a nightgown and let her hunker down just outside the door. Mercy let water and Sugar Tree picked her up again. Amy and Willa looked at Liberty and grinned. They had been trying to get Mercy to use the outhouse and to break her of the habit of squatting in the yard whenever she had the urge.

Sugar Tree carried Mercy on her hip throughout most of the day. Liberty remembered that Mr. Washington loved children too. She wondered why they did not have any of their own.

Although their ways were strange to each other, an easy companionship developed between the women at Quill’s Station and the Indian wife of Mr. Washington. Liberty showed Sugar Tree how to make switchel and to fashion buttons from the shells along the river. Sugar Tree watched Willa make plum pudding and shook her head as if to say it was too much trouble. She showed Liberty and Willa where to find the prairie turnip, cow parsnip, wild potato and onion. They found wild rhubarb to roast over hot coals and black root for coughs, and grape root to stop bleeding. She taught them to take the pulp of the cottonwood tree and boil it. They were surprised because it was not unlike maple syrup in flavor.

The day passed amazingly fast.

While the sun was setting, Sugar Tree departed. She took with her the plum pudding from Willa, brass buckles from a pair of Amy’s outgrown shoes, and a pair of scissors from Liberty. She waved good-bye and went through the trees to the sawyer camp to walk back home with Mr. Washington.

That day a friendship had been forged that would last throughout the years.

*  *  *

The work force had swelled to twenty men and boys. The barracks walls were up, and shingles for the roof were being shaped at the camp. The crew was divided now. Half of the men worked on the buildings and setting the posts for the stockade; the other half felled, shaped and brought the logs to the building site. It seemed to Liberty that almost overnight a drastic change had taken place in Quill’s Station. During these weeks she saw Farr only from a distance during the day, but the nights were hers. After a dip in the creek he came to the wagon where they still slept and crawled in beside her. This was her time with him. Here in the wagon he was wholly hers, and she welcomed him with open arms.

“The men are going to take a week off starting Sunday,” he said one night. “They’ve been working steadily and want to get home to see how the crops are coming.”

“How long do you think it will take to finish the buildings?”

“A month. It’s gone faster than I thought it would. I’m sure we can finish before time to cut grass for the winter feed. Most of the homesteaders depend on that grass to keep their stock alive in case of a heavy snow.”

“I miss Rain,” she said sleepily. “I hope he’s all right.”

“I miss him too, but he’s got to make his own life. I suspect he’ll go cross the big river and go west. Missouri is opening up.”

“Farr? Do you long to cross rivers that haven’t been crossed and climb mountains that haven’t been climbed?”

“Right now all I long to do is kiss you, Mrs. Quill.” He turned to her and pressed his cheek to hers. She could feel the movement of his jaw when he whispered, “Take off that gown so I can love you properly.”

*  *  *

The men left for home before daybreak, all except Mr. Thompson’s Negro slave. Mr. Thompson had told him to stay until he came for him, and he didn’t dare do anything else. Farr persuaded him to go home with Mr. Washington for a couple of days and then return to help him build a large open fireplace with a cobblestone chimney. The women would need a place to cook if the settlers all had to gather inside the stockade and stay for any length of time.

Liberty liked having the homestead to themselves again. It was peaceful after weeks of being among so many people. She worried too, because if Stith was going to do anything to even his score with Farr, it would be while the men were away. She didn’t believe for a moment that he would forget the humiliation of her rejection and the beating he took from Farr. His pride would not allow it.

During the months Liberty had been at Quill’s Station, there had been only a few occasions when Indians had come within sight of the cabin. They usually used the river for travel. Late one afternoon, when a large group with women and children passed by on the road, Farr went out to speak to them and later gave them a side of deer meat from the smokehouse as a token of friendship. Occasionally a small group of mounted Indians passed through the woods, and Liberty learned of it only through conversation between Farr, Colby and Juicy.

Shortly after sunrise on Sunday, Liberty walked to the doorway of the cabin and was startled to see a group of mounted Indians come out of the woods to the west and head toward the house.

“They’re coming in, Farr,” Colby said in a conversational tone from the bench beside the door.

Farr was working on an axe handle and didn’t look up. “How many?”

“Dozen.”

The leader of the party was fully dressed, the others naked to the waist. His shirt was light, soft doeskin; long, fringed, and belted at the waist. His trousers were darker buckskin, also fringed, and on his feet were elaborately beaded moccasins. His midnight black hair hung down over his shoulders. Small blue feathers were tied to thin braids on either side of his face. He was an arresting figure, but it was the horse he was leading that caught Liberty’s attention.

“Isn’t that . . . that . . .” Liberty stumbled over the words and a cold fear settled in her stomach.

“Yessiree. It’s the horse Rain rode away on, and that gent leading the mare is Tecumseh. Be gracious, Libby. Tecumseh is king among his people.” Colby’s voice was a low murmur. He got up and walked out toward Farr.

“Amy, Willa, bring the children and come out. We have company,” Liberty said before she stepped out into the yard. She prayed that Amy wouldn’t run up to the horse and demand to know what had happened to Rain.

Farr stood and raised his hand in greeting.

Tecumseh slid from the horse and held out his hand.

“It is good to see my friend, Farrway Quill.”

“It is good to see my friend, Tecumseh.”

Colby and Juicy went forward and shook hands and exchanged a greeting with the Indian chief. Then Juicy acknowledged the remainder of the still-mounted party.

“Yo’re welcome,” he said in English, then repeated a similar greeting in the tongue of the Shawnee. The Indians nodded solemnly and slid from their ponies. They stood beside them until Juicy took his pipe out of his pocket and sat down under the oak tree. They sat down in a semi-circle around him.

“Fetch my bag of tobaccy, Amy,” Juicy called.

“Willa, make up a batch of that switchel for our friends,” Colby said, and sat down in the circle.

Farr and Tecumseh walked toward the cabin.

“You and Colby Carroll have taken wives since we last met.”

“Only I have taken a wife.”

“You have been long without a woman. Does this one fill your heart with joy?”

“She is all a woman should be. Liberty, come and greet my friend, Tecumseh,” Farr called and held out his hand to her. He watched proudly as she came toward them, her head held high, her lips smiling. The Indian chief also watched, his expression hidden behind his unreadable face.

Liberty thought Tecumseh a magnificent figure of a man. He was tall, erect, muscular, light copper in complexion instead of the reddish brown of his people. He had a quiet dignity that would have set him apart from his men even without his fine dress. His mouth was firm and strong, his nose straight and narrow, his eyes a clear transparent hazel that showed a mild expression of interest.

“My wife, Liberty,” Farr said when she reached them.

Liberty held out her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

His handshake was strong. “You are as fair to behold as my sister said. You have chosen well, Farrway.” His eyes remained on her face while he spoke.

“She is a good wife,” Farr said simply.

“And brave. My sister told me of her bravery. She sends greetings and a gift to the White Dove on the Wabash.” He went back to his horse, returned with a bundle and held it out flat in both hands. “It is a token, for there is no way to pay for the life of a loved one.”

“Thank you.” Liberty took the bundle from his hands and unfolded a beautifully beaded, white doeskin dress and matching white knee-high moccasins. “Oh, thank you!” she exclaimed. “They’re beautiful.” Her eyes, sparkling with pleasure, went from one tall man to the other. She held the dress up in front of her.

“It is fitting for the White Dove,” Tecumseh said solemnly, and looked at her with such an inexpressible intensity that when he smiled and a glimmer of humor shone from his dark eyes, she was the one to stare, because he was an extraordinarily handsome man. “My sister said she worried all through one night before she decided White Dove would be a more suitable name for you than Silver Fish.”

Liberty’s laugh rang out. “I’d much rather be a dove than a . . . smelly fish. Please thank Tecumapese for me.”

“It will please my sister that you like her gift.”

“Then she and Rain Tallman arrived safely?” Liberty’s eyes went past Tecumseh to the mare and then back to his face.

“The White Dove has a fondness for the son of John Spotted Elk?” he spoke to Farr while still looking at Liberty.

“Yes. The horse Rain rode to Prophetstown is one my wife brought from her home in far away New York State.”

“He asked me to return the horse and tell you to give Colby Carroll his pay. He also sent his promise to return when there is peace once again in the land.”

“Then he’s all right?” Liberty asked anxiously.

“He has gone to the land beyond the big water where he will become a man. He talked of your sister and her marriage to Old Wolf. Rain Tallman will come for her one day.”

“Did he say that?” Liberty asked, thinking it would be something she could tell Amy.

“He did not say the words, but he spoke much of her to his father, John Spotted Elk.”

Tecumseh’s head turned slowly until his eyes had viewed the entire compound. “We learned of the fort you build for the soldiers even before Rain Tallman came with my sister.” It was a statement, and there was not a trace of accusation in his voice.

“Let us talk, Tecumseh, for it may be long before we can speak together again.”

“Yes, Farrway Quill. It will be long before we may speak again like this.”

Farr stepped inside the cabin and took from the mantle the ceremonial pipe given to him by Tecumseh years before. With a bag of tobacco and a burning sliver from the fireplace, he returned to the yard. He and Tecumseh walked toward the barracks that would temporarily house the patrols. They sat on the ground in front of the door and smoked in silence for several minutes before Tecumseh spoke.

“I am leaving this country to visit the tribes to the south and to ask them to become a part of our Indian union. I carry with me a message to all tribes, the Cherokee, Seminole, Choctaw, Chickasaw, and the smaller and more scattered tribes, the Santee and Cayuga, Catawba, and Biloxi, that they must pledge themselves to join the Shawnee to keep the white man from taking over our land.”

“I cannot say that I blame you or that I wish you success. Because if you are successful in uniting the tribes in war against the whites, many of your people and my people will die.”

“It is true,” he said sadly. “But what are we to do, Farrway Quill? I cannot say what will become of us, as the Great Spirit has the management of us all at his will. I can only try to save our land and our people.”

“I would do the same. I’m building the fort not for war, but to protect my family and friends should war parties come down from the north. The Sioux and the Fox are aligning themselves with the British in Canada, and I look for them to raid along the Wabash.”

“This is true. I would hope the southern tribes will not do this. The Indian tribes should unite and become one nation, living in peace with the whites. Why are the whites alarmed at this? Has not the United States itself set the example by establishing a union of Seventeen Fires?”

“I don’t know the answer, Tecumseh.”

“I have instructed my brother, Tenskwatawa, that he should continue to preach our doctrine and that he should maintain the peace. It is extremely important now. Within another five moons the amalgamation will be powerful enough to stand by itself and make its demands. A great sign will be given to them and it will be a turning point in the fortunes of all the Indians of this great land. I believe this.” Tecumseh stood. “I will bid farewell to the White Dove of the Wabash. You have nothing to fear from my people, Farrway Quill. I wish I could say the same for the Sioux and the Fox.”

Liberty, dressed in the beautiful white soft dress and moccasins, stood in the doorway of the cabin and waited for Farr and Tecumseh to approach. She had brushed and braided her white-blond hair in two long ropes, and they hung down over her breasts. Her face was radiant, her eyes shining, her lips red and smiling. Farr’s eyes clung to her. He was sure he had never seen a more beautiful woman. She was also lovely on the inside, where it counted the most. He was also sure that Tecumseh sensed as much.

Tecumseh saw the pleasure on Farr’s face when he looked at his wife and felt a pang of regret for his lost love. Three years had passed since he had said good-bye to Rebecca Galloway, the blond, blue-eyed girl who had taught him to speak the white man’s tongue so fluently and read the white man’s words. He had loved her dearly. But as much as he loved her he could not forsake his people and adopt the white man’s way of life and mode of dress, for to do as she required, he would lose the respect and leadership of his people.