by Caryl McAdoo
Medicinal use only. If not then, when?
Would a broken leg hurt worse?
She took a couple of sips, warmed her gullet, then tipped the bottle and gulped the rest. Mercy, that burned all the way down. She leaned back. Yesterday, she'd almost told Mal and Isabel her heart, but . . . Did she really love Corbin? Was it even possible?
For a fact, she still loved Reagan and always would, but he was gone. Mister Harrell was there. And the way the man was going, he'd have that barn built in a couple of weeks. She couldn't even imagine how that was possible. Seemed as if a lot of impossible things were happening. Was it God's divine hand?
What would she do when he finished it? He'd want an answer.
“Oh Lord, help me.”
Two wagons over, Corbin also prayed at that exact moment, but he beseeched the Lord to help him build the best barn ever. So far, it'd gone great, better than he expected.
The trees he'd picked were good ones, no hidden knots that made the planing hard. But tomorrow would tell the tale. If he could get it all up and plumb . . . then the rest would be so much easier.
If not, then nothing would fit right.
“Please, Father, help me. Just like you helped King Solomon build Your House. Keep me from being foolish in my old age.”
All that night, he'd wake with the barn on his mind, checking and rechecking his mental plans, racking his brain for anything he'd might have missed.
Flynn came tapping on his wagon, telling him it was his turn to stand watch. Couldn't have come soon enough. Seemed liked he'd been working harder in his sleep than during the day.
Dawn broke right on time, like it would do anything else. After one cup of coffee and two of Esther's biscuits smothered in red-eye gravy he got busy measuring everything again.
Then once all his help was ready, he had them raise the first pole. Plumbed it straight then braced it off, careful not to drive the spikes all the way into the support poles. The things were worth their weight in silver.
Flynn slipped in behind the tripod and bent over. The first pole lined up right on the plumb line. “Wow. Never knew how one of those things worked.”
Corbin glanced at him then nodded. “Yes, sir. I've got a good eye, but the plumb line is perfect.”
“How about level?”
“Easy enough. I'll show you once we get the second pole up and plumb.”
That one went in easy enough, but the beam proved another matter.
With him and Alicia and Gabrielle on one end, and Seve and Laud and Mallory on the other, they lifted it overhead, then using forked branches, pushed it up to Corbin who waited atop the ladder. That beam's end fell into the groove the carpenter cut in the pole his ladder was on, but the other one rested on top—not in the groove since no one guided it in.
“Flynn, take your forked branch and help them hold that end until I get this one pinned.”
“Yes, sir.” He hurried to the other end and put his stick on the opposite side of Seve's.
Corbin tapped the beam snug, then took his bit and brace and drilled a hole between the two before tapping the pin in place. Then he hurried down the ladder and moved it to the opposite end. Once up the ladder again, he tapped the beam's end down what looked to be halfway then pulled a little water-filled jar from the tool pouch he wore around his waist.
“Flynn, can you see this jar?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you see the black line? How the water is on the line?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That's what tells me it's level.”
“Wow. Excellent.”
Corbin put the jar on the beam then knocked the thing down some with his hammer. He then tapped a little wooden shim into the gap to snug the beam into place and hold it level. Real quick, he drilled the hole then pinned it in place. He slid down the ladder like he was a kid again, grinning ear to ear.
“Well, what do you think? Looks good to me.”
Seve slapped him on the back. “Amen, Harrell. I'd say its pert near perfect.”
The crew got the other two up, plumb, and level before dinner. Then the two rafters across to join all four poles together first thing after the meal. Flynn begged off when they went to felling more trees, so he could plow enough to let the girls get some seeds in the ground. After that, he figured Alicia would want her bath.
Alicia walked alongside the mule to help him keep the row straight. She stepped aside at the first turn and joined him. “It's warm enough, still think we'll have time?”
“Maybe. I told Esther I'd run the snares I set up yesterday when Pa and I first set out.”
“Well, I'm really wanting to wash my hair and . . .” She smiled. “You're getting a bit ripe yourself.”
“Oh, am I now? The mule is lined up, and we best get after it if you and Gabrielle are going to get any seed in the ground.”
Liberty loved Corbin's excitement and obvious pleasure over the barn's progress. Standing there at the end of her wagon, telling her every detail . . . she would have enjoyed knowing him as a child. He must have spun some big yarns.
“Oh.” He pointed at her with his hat. “Have you seen Alicia and Flynn yet?”
“Yes, they came right after getting back from the creek bath. Sure would be nice.”
“Indeed.” He tossed his hat back on his head. “That's what got me to thinking. We could build a bathhouse. Nothing real big, but a hot bath of a Saturday is a right nice pleasure.”
What an idea. She laughed. “You've got the building bug, don't you?”
“Oh yes, ma'am. Never had a crew like I've got now! Mercy—to borrow your favorite word—the way we're going, I'll have us high and dry in no time.”
“So . . . a bathhouse, huh. Sounds awful nice. Where you going to get an iron tub?”
“No need. Oak will work fine. I can make it just like a whiskey barrel, except bigger. Principle's the same though. Cork the drain hole, fill the thing with water, and get in.”
“Really? You make sound so easy.”
“Might take a week. But if everyone's of a mind. We could work on it after the barn.”
“What about our cabins?”
“Sawed board houses would be better. Don't you think?”
“Of course. But we don't have a sawmill, Corbin.” The grin on her face stayed permanent in the face of his unbridled enthusiasm.
“Easy enough, we sure could. From what I've seen, we've got enough timber and plenty of water.”
“How much would one cost?”
“Don't know exactly, but if we hold off on building cabins and concentrate on busting as much ground as we can . . . Did Flynn tell how this dirt takes to the plow?”
“Yes, sir. He sure did. So, you were saying?”
He laid out his plan. She loved how he told her things, acted like he needed or wanted her approval before he did anything. Was that why she'd taken to the man so? The sound of his voice soothed her, but beyond that, he treated her like an equal, or even his better.
If . . . when would she allow herself to seriously think on such thoughts? Of marrying the man.
He finished then looked to her like she should say something.
“All makes perfect sense to me. We'll see what the others think.”
He grinned. “You up to reading some?”
“Always, dear sir.”
After two full chapters, she sent Corbin to his wagon and got out her journal.
Day Forty-four
Wednesday, October 28
~ + ~
“Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness; To the end that my glory may sing praise to thee, and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks unto thee forever.” Psalm 30:11-12
Flynn plowed some and bragged on the ground almost as much as Mallory's boasting on the progress of the new barn. Alicia and Gabrielle got some seed in the ground, and Corbin and the others felled four more trees.
It's hard to imag
ine they're ready to raise the last two poles for the barn. And here I lie doing nothing!
The man has impressed them all, especially Seve, according to Mal. And Corbin is loving it. He's like a little boy with a new set of blocks. If I dare, Isabel says I can get up and out tomorrow.
Figure I will, no matter what, as my hankering to see all that Corbin's been telling me about is growing in parallel with his barn!
Dear Esther fixed a mighty fine meal this night! Spit-roasted rabbit with sweet potatoes and greens picked off our new land!
My brother's wife is an artist in the kitchen—speaking of which, a big community kitchen a ways off the barn is another of Mister Harrell's future projects. Stormy kept everyone laughing with his uncanny ability to catch all the tossed bones mid-air.
At the time I thought Seve played the fool paying three dollars for a dog—it seemed way too high a price—but now, I don't think we'd take a hundred for the lovable mutt. I know Aaron and Rich wouldn't abide selling the animal for any price.
Should she write what her heart told her about Corbin? Would putting the words on paper cause the telling to be real? Might the Lord create what she wrote and make the words come true? She couldn't . . . not yet. Placing her journal in its box with the ink and quill, she tucked it away then scooted down a bit.
When she snuffed the light, her hand slipped to where the last bottle hid. She pulled it out, but didn't open it. Her backside's pain had migrated to somewhat manageable, and a headache would be certain if she drank enough to get some rest.
She chose to lie in the darkness, listening to the bullfrogs croaking down by the creek.
After only the Lord knew how long, she unscrewed the cap and nipped a little, then gulped two goodly shots. If she was to get up and out the next day, she wanted some sleep to feel her best. Twisting the lid back in place, she stowed it away.
Her head swam a bit . . . then she strolled a lantern—lit street. Where was she? Reagan walked just ahead. She kept trying to catch up but couldn't. A fog rolled in. Was she back in Philadelphia?
He stopped and turned around. “You kept your vows better than me.”
“Oh, Reagan! That was so long ago, and I love you, dear.”
“I love you, too, Liberty. Don't you be spending any time worrying over me. You hear? It'll be fine.”
She sat up in the wagon, suddenly wide awake. The pain behind her eyes drove her back to the pillow. She lifted the canvas on the opposite end with a toe and peeked. A new day had dawned. Such a slacker she'd become.
Once upon a time, the sun never beat her up.
Chapter Thirty-three
After breakfast in bed that chilly October morn, Liberty's nurse brought her cheerful self to the wagon and administered her oh-so-helpful salve. Once all doctored and ready, she rolled over and held her arms out toward Isabel.
“You have been so good to me.”
The ex—slave flashed a big smile then leaned into the hug. “Just a little payback, my dear friend.”
“For what?” Liberty held her out. “I've done nothing to deserve you being so kind.”
“Oh, ma'am! If not for you, I don't thinks Pap would ever have even thought about setting me free.” Her eyes glistened.
“Bless the Lord Who reigns in Heaven!” Liberty's own eyes watered some. “He's the One Who's made the big difference in Mister Corbin Harrell.”
“Amen.” Isabel wiped her cheeks. “You want to try sitting your rocker by the fire? It's still a bit chilly, but the sun be out.”
“Yes, I believe I would. It sounds lovely. I wonder if you'd be so kind as to place it so I can see the barn?”
With the young lady's help, Liberty got herself to the rocker with some pain, but not much. She could hardly believe her eyes. Corbin was a miracle worker!
How he'd done it—though he'd explained every step to her—she couldn't imagine. Six tall poles stood at least twelve feet in the air, straight and evenly distanced, and connected in all directions by thick beams.
With half the roof's bones in place! It seemed like it should've taken two months to get it that far along. She marveled, watching the men work. Couldn't say she much liked Flynn and Corbin working so high up, Laud and Seve handing boards up to them steady, but they both seemed to be at ease.
Oooo, not her! She hated heights, just climbing the ladder that high would have her trembling.
Beyond the barn a ways, Alicia and Gabrielle sat together, each with an end of a handsaw, working on a half-cut log. They must be making more boards.
Her best friend and sister-in-law each worked on hitting a chunk of cedar trunk with small hatchets. They must be splitting those shingles Corbin had spoken to her about. Isabel joined them and went to work.
Liberty didn't know if she'd be quite up to that yet, but the exercise would probably be good for her. And she'd love the visiting. With everyone so busy, she'd been lonely stuck off in the wagon.
It truly amazed her how he had turned trees into that which had risen out of the ground before her. Even more, he had everyone working on it . . . and she thought Seve was a general.
Though she'd enjoy getting closer to see better how the tenon and mortises worked and exactly what one of those wooden pins he talked about looked like, just sitting proved uncomfortable enough.
Best not do any more walking than necessary.
“Mam! You're up!”
Carefully, she eased around as far as she could. Charity Grace walked toward her, Katie Kay on her hip. “Hey, babe. Yes, I surely am. You and Arlene taking good care of the little ladies?”
“Yes, ma'am. Arlee is lying down with Josie Jo right now. Then she's coming out when the baby goes to sleep. We want to see how things are going.” Her eyes widened, like her father's always had when he'd get excited. Can you believe how fast they're getting it up?”
“No, ma'am. I am indeed amazed.”
“You should have seen it! And Mister Harrell's been talking about sawed board-houses instead of cabins, too.”
“Wouldn't that be something? Has he mentioned his idea for a bathhouse?”
“No! Wow.” She giggled. “Wouldn't that be boss?”
“It would.”
“Want to hold Katie Kay?”
“Well . . . I'd love to, but maybe I better not. I'm still hurting some.” She reached and took the little one's hand. “Aunt Libby sure loves you though.” She glanced back to her daughter. “Where are the boys? Does Mister Harrell have them working on something, too?”
“Most the time, he keeps us all doing something, but Uncle Seve let them take Stormy hunting. Can Arlee and I have our own dog, too? The boys don't like sharing him at all, and it just isn't fair.”
“Oh, they don't? Well, if we can find another Blue Dog pup, I'd be all for it. Or maybe you girls could have a kitten or two. We'll be needing some barn cats I'd suppose.”
“A cat! That's a great idea, Mam! And we could have one each? Even Katie Kay?” The girl nuzzled Katie's neck. “Do you want your own kittie, Katie Kay?”
“Yes, ma'am! I want a kittie!”
“All right! Yay!”
“Yay!” The baby jumped up and down in her babysitter's arms.
Lifting her from her hip to the ground, Charity strolled out to where the men worked. “Come on, KK, let's go tell your mama!”
“Don't get in their way. And hey!” She waited until her girl turned back. “And I said maybe on those cats, so don't be putting words in my mouth!”
The girl giggled. “We won't, Mam.”
“Plus, we'll have to find some. Who knows how long that will take?”
She waved over her shoulder like of course she wouldn't get in anyone's way.
Though more than a bit uncomfortable toward the end, Liberty made it until after dinner before heading back to the wagon to lie down a bit. Isabel daubed a generous amount of her salve to ease the pain, but Liberty figured she'd rather be up after supper than during the afternoon.
A short nap helped. She must be g
etting old. She never had been one to sleep during the day.
That evening, after Corbin and his gang of barn builders called it a day, Isabel helped her back to her rocker, so she could eat again with the clan. Once the bean bowls got filled, no one said much, other than to praise Esther's cooking. Liberty ate half hers then threw a nod toward Corbin.
“Have you got another hatchet?”
“Yes, ma'am. Way I figure it, a man can't have too many hatchets.” He smiled.
“Good. I want you to show me how, and I'll make some shingles tomorrow with the ladies.”
“Really? Think you're up to it?”
“Well, no, actually.” She shrugged. “But I thought—” The dog growling real low quieted her. Stormy just never did that. The guard hairs on his neck stood at attention, and he stared at nothing there she could see. He eased a few steps toward the creek.
“Suppose it's a bear, Pa! Want me to fetch the gun?”
“No. Hush, Aaron.”
A splashed sounded, and the hound disappeared into the darkness, barking his head off. Aaron headed that direction, but Seve caught him. “You stay here. Men, get your guns. I'll go see who or what it is.”
Everyone ran to do as their leader commanded.
“Hey, the camp.”
Seve, just beyond the light, answered. “State your business.”
“Been following your wagon tracks for two days now, sir. Been scouting the land. You and yours settlers?”
“Yes, sir, newly arrived from Tennessee. Come on in but be warned; we have plenty of fire power.”
The man, a little taller than Seve, walked into the light, leading a horse. “Evening, folks. I'm Thomas Baldwin.”
Smiling, Liberty nodded. “Are you hungry, Mister Baldwin?”
“I could eat, once I've seen to my horse.”
“Get yourself some beans.” Laud stood. “I'll see to your animal, sir.”
