Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (40 page)

“All right. It’ll be best if we’re not seen together too often.” Hammond stood. He felt more confident when he was on his feet looking down on the large man than he did sitting across the table from him. “When Cooley gets here I’ll take the patrol south and arrest Quill. You just be sure that girl doesn’t run off somewhere.”

“Yeah,” Stith grunted and raised his tankard to his lips. He heard the tapping sound of Hammond’s boot heels on the plank floor as he left the tavern. “Cocky little bastard,” he snarled. He emptied his tankard, banged it on the table, and yelled to the barmaid to bring more ale.

*  *  *

By late October the pumpkins had been gathered, the corn picked, and hay had been cut and stored in the loft of the barn. Liberty, Willa and Amy were busy making hominy, grinding corn into meal, and storing the turnips, potatoes and cabbages in the cellar. Colby located a bee tree. He and Farr brought home two deerskin bags of honey and enough honeycomb to make a good supply of candles.

After the stockade and barracks were finished, Farr offered fifty cents a day to any man who would stay and help add an extra room to his cabin and make a sleeping place in the loft for his growing family. Most of the men stayed on, and in three days’ time the work was finished, with a double bed built into the wall of the extra room and three single beds in the loft. Willa and Amy sewed skins to fill with cornshucks for mattresses, and Liberty made pillows by stuffing the legs of worn buckskin britches with down feathers.

In the evening either Willa or Amy sat at the spinning wheel working the wool into thread to be knitted into warm stockings, caps and mittens. The nights now were cold, but warmth from the two fireplaces kept the cabin toasty warm. Farr, Colby and Juicy used every spare minute to saw the big tree trunks into manageable lengths so they could be split for use in the fireplace.

Liberty had heard nothing from Stith or her father. She seldom thought of Elija, and when she did, it was with a little guilty pang because it was so easy not to think about him. She went about her tasks with a smile on her face and a thankful heart. She had found a place to call her own. She had Farr’s love, Amy was safe, Mercy and Daniel were healthy and happy, Willa and Colby spent more and more time together, and the stockade was there to give protection should they need it. Had she stopped to think about it, she would have realized that such a Utopian existence couldn’t go on forever.

Early one morning in November the signal came. Three short blasts on the horn at three intervals. Liberty was on her way to the barn to gather eggs. At first she wasn’t sure what it was. Then it came to her like a bolt. At the first sign of Indian trouble, the homesteader would blow on the horn. The signal would be picked up and passed on from homestead to homestead until everyone in the Wabash Valley was notified. Three short blasts, three times meant an Indian raid by a sizeable party.

Farr and Colby came running toward the barn, their rifles in their hands, powder horn and shotbags hanging from their shoulders. Juicy was already in the yard with the horn relaying the message to the homesteaders to the south.

“You know what to do, Libby,” Farr said. “Keep the children and Amy in the house. You and Willa stay close to Juicy and do exactly as he says. The guns, the powder and shot are ready if you need them. Colby and I will ride out and see what’s going on.”

“Farr, darling—”

“Mind what Juicy says, Liberty Bell. He’s in charge here until I get back.”

“I will, darling. Don’t worry about us. Please be careful, my love.”

Colby rode out of the barn leading Farr’s horse. Farr kissed Liberty hard on the lips, sprang up onto the bare back of the horse and followed Colby out the gate. Liberty stood looking after them, dazed by the sudden turn of events. In the space of a couple of minutes her ideal world had changed drastically.

Juicy shouted orders. “Tell Dan’l ta keep Mercy in the house, Amy. Ya ’n Willa stake the cows close ta the barn, then start carryin’ water. The barrels is full, but the buckets ain’t. Libby, close the shutters, then get yoreself up on the walk by the barracks ’n watch ta the south. I’m agoin’ up on the roof ’n see what I can see.”

“I can do that, Juicy.”

“Do what I tell ya,” he roared. “I ain’t so gawddamn ole I can’t climb a ladder.”

*  *  *

Farr and Colby bypassed Lenning’s place and went through the woods toward Luscomb’s. They heard shots as they neared and saw Luscomb beside the wagon. He was fighting off two Indians while his wife and brother carried the children back into the house. From the looks of it, Farr concluded he had been loading his family in the wagon when the Indians attacked. Four more Indians came running out of the timber that lined the river, the black paint of war on their faces.

Farr jumped from the horse, knelt and took aim. His shot struck the first Indian, flinging him back. Colby’s shot took the next one. While they were reloading, they heard an anguished scream and saw Dorrie Luscomb come running from the cabin. She swung the butt of the rifle at the Indian who was lifting her husband’s hair. The blow never landed. A painted savage grabbed her, smashed her skull with his tomahawk and snatched the rifle from her hand. Seconds later he died from a bullet fired from Farr’s rifle. The rest of the Indians broke and ran toward the river.

At a signal from Farr, Colby slipped into the woods to the north. Running lightly, Farr circled the south side of the homestead. They met at the river in time to see an Indian canoe riding swiftly on the downriver current and pulling to the far bank where half a dozen canoes were beached.

Satisfied that the raiding party had left the homestead, Farr and Colby hurried back to the capsuled horror of Luscomb’s and his wife’s murdered bodies lying in the yard. The bodies of four of their attackers were also there. Luscomb had killed one and Farr and Colby had accounted for three.

“Delaware.” Farr leaned down and pulled an amulet from around the neck of the dead warrior who lay beside the wagon. “More than likely they’ve broken loose from Tenskwatawa up at Prophetstown and have struck out on their own. It’s a large party to require six canoes.”

Farr could hear the children crying inside the cabin. The door opened and Peewee, Luscomb’s young brother, stuck his head out.

“Keep the kids inside for a while,” Farr called. He stooped and lifted the lifeless body of Dorrie Luscomb and placed her gently in the wagon. Colby laid Donald Luscomb beside his wife. Farr took a blanket from the hastily gathered belongings the family had piled in the wagon and covered the dead couple before he called out to Peewee. “Bring the kids out, and hurry it up.”

With tears streaming down his face, the young boy came out of the cabin, cradling a crying infant in one arm and leading a three-year-old girl by the hand. His mother and two young boys followed. The elderly woman appeared to be in shock. Farr helped her up onto the wagon seat, put the infant in her arms and set the small girl on the seat beside her. There was nothing to do but put the two small boys in the back of the wagon with their dead parents. Colby gathered up the rifles from the dead Indians and put them in the wagon as well.

“Whip up the team, son, and head for the stockade,” Farr said. “Colby will be with you.”

Scattered shots were coming from the north. Farr turned his horse into the woods, and running him as fast as the tangled brush would permit, he cut west and then north so he would come out onto the road again. When he reached the place where he could see for any distance, he saw two wagons about a hundred feet apart coming on at full speed trying to outrun a group of mounted, yipping Indians. George Thompson’s Negro man was whipping up the team. George was in the back firing his weapon. Farr could see the ashen faces of Mrs. Thompson and Harriet as they hung onto the sides of the wagon.

In the second wagon Maude Perkins sat beside the driver. She was holding onto the seat with one hand, and with the other she was stinging the backs of the sweating team with the whip. Her four boys were in the back, two on each side, firing when they thought the Indians were close enough to hit.

The first thing to cross Farr’s mind was that the raiding party had split, some taking to the stolen horses, the rest going on downriver in the canoes.

Farr rode back into the woods, dismounted, ran to the edge of the timber, knelt and waited. When the Indians were within firing distance, he fired his weapon. A warrior was flung from his horse and the others pulled up suddenly. Farr reloaded in a matter of seconds, took aim and fired again. His bullet struck a rider, but didn’t knock him from the horse. The Indians, mounted on mules and plow horses they had stolen, wheeled their clumsy mounts and looked for the unseen attacker. After a moment of confusion, they rode into the woods to the east.

Farr waited. When the Indians failed to reappear, he mounted and rode north for several miles. Seeing nothing and hearing no more shots being fired, he turned back toward home.

*  *  *

From the platform where she could see over the stockade, Liberty saw movement on the river. Keeping to the far bank and under the cover of the hanging willows, three canoes moved steadily. She shouted the news to Juicy, then shaded her eyes with her hand and looked south. Coming along the road were five black-clad, white-aproned and capped women of the Sufferite community. With them were three times that number of children, ranging in age from babes-in-arms to a girl not quite Amy’s age.

Liberty’s breath almost left her when she looked again to the river and saw that the canoes had come out from beneath the willows. Each canoe carried three painted warriors. They were paddling strongly against the current as they crossed to the Illinois side of the river. She looked again at the approaching women and children and realized that if they didn’t run, they would never make it to the stockade before the Indians saw them. Without stopping to consider the risk, she climbed down from the platform.

“Indians! They’re coming from the river!” she shouted. “Amy! Stay by the gate and let me back in.” She heard Juicy shout for her to stay inside, even as she tugged open the gate. Ignoring his order, she squeezed out one side and ran down the road.

The women saw her coming and responded to her excited shouts for them to hurry. Each picked up a child and began to run, urging the other children to move as fast as their little legs would allow them. Liberty continued to yell for them to hurry, sped past them and grabbed up a small girl who was lagging behind, grasped the hand of another child and pulled her along. As they neared the gate they heard the yipping of the Indians and then a volley of shots from Juicy and Willa’s guns. Amy ran out, grabbed an exhausted child up in her arms and raced back inside, where she set her down and pushed on the heavy gate to swing it shut as soon as the last of the women and children were safely inside.

“Take the children to the house,” Liberty told the panting women. Then, “Can any of you shoot a gun?” They looked at her blankly. “Never mind,” she said.

Shots came from the north and Juicy yelled, “Libby! Amy! Stay by the gates. Wagons comin’! Hee, hee, hee! Let ’em have it, Colby, boy! Shoot the bastards!” Juicy fired again. “Run, ya blasted, dog-eatin’ varmints,” he shouted. “Open the gate, Libby. They’re acomin’ in!”

Liberty and Amy pulled back the heavy double gate and the Luscomb wagon thundered through. Colby’s mount danced nervously as he pulled him up to wait for another wagon. The Thompson wagon came through, closely followed by another. Colby swung his horse in a circle so he could scan the road to the north and then to the south. Seeing no one else approaching, he gigged his mount and rode through the gateway.

“Shut the gate!” He jumped from his horse and started up the ladder to the platform.

“But Farr—”

“Shut the gate! Farr’ll be along.”

“Libby, that was Papa in that wagon with Mrs. Perkins.”

Liberty scarcely heard her sister. Her heart was pounding with fear. Farr! Farr! She couldn’t think of anything else except that Farr was out there with those yipping savages. She climbed to the platform and squared beside Colby.

“Where is Farr?”

“He’ll be along. Don’t worry.” Colby lifted his head and peered cautiously over the barricade.

“Don’t worry? Damn you! What happened to—”

“Calm down.” Colby turned, grinned at her and stood his rifle butt end down on the platform so that the muzzle rested between the points of the logs that formed the stockade. Juicy did the same. “They’re gone, for now at least. Farr’s nosing around. It would take more than a flea-bitten Delaware to catch him.”

“Delaware?” Juicy spat over the side. “Ain’t ne’er had no use for Delaware.”

“Luscomb and his wife were killed,” Colby said sorrowfully. “The bodies are in the back of the wagon.”

“Oh, my God! Those poor children.” Liberty pressed her palms to her mouth.

“You and Willa better go on down and do what you can.”

“Oh, and the baby. Oh, my goodness, Willa. What will we do about the baby?”

Colby caught Willa’s hand when she passed him to follow Liberty. “Are you doin’ all right, honey-girl?”

Willa tugged on her hand and glanced at Juicy. “Colby!”

“Don’t be embarrassed, honey-girl.” He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Juicy knows you’re my honey-girl. Don’t you, Juicy?”

“Well, I ain’t blind, y’know.”

“See there? Everybody knows. Kiss me before you go.”

“I’ll do no such thing! Colby!”

Colby laughed. “I love to tease you, darlin’. But I guess I’ll have to watch my step from now on. I didn’t know you could shoot. Or was Juicy doing all the shooting?”

“Hee, hee, hee,” Juicy laughed. “T’warn’t all my doin’. She was ashootin’. That gun’d knocked her tail over teakettle if’n she’d a had a full load in.” The old man looked at her fondly. “Ya got ya a good woman, son. She’s got a passel a grit. Scared hell outta one a the bastards without even aimin’ at ’em.”

“Good girl!”

The praise brought a rosy glow to Willa’s cheeks, and when she dared to look at Colby, her heart fluttered at the warm proud look in his eyes. He placed a light kiss on the back of her hand before he released it, and she climbed down the ladder with a prayer in her heart that this wonderful feeling of belonging would last.