They ate in companionable silence at the same table where they had eaten as children. Mercy looked at Daniel across the table and realized how much she had missed being with him the last few years. She wondered if he had missed looking out for her or if he was glad to be away from the family and on his own.
Daniel had spent a few years down in Arkansas with Rain and Amy Tallman. When he came back, Gavin McCourtney and his wife Eleanor came with him. Gavin bought the sawmill from Farrway, and Daniel took over much of the business of running the gristmill when friends began to pressure Farrway Quill to run for state office.
A couple of years ago Daniel had purchased the old Luscomb place, a mile down the road from the Quills, rebuilt the house, and moved in. He had acres and acres he put into wheat. It was ground at the mill, and sacks of flour were shipped down the river to places like Memphis and New Orleans. He employed three families of freed Negroes to work his farm. Each family had their own house and a patch of ground for a garden, besides the yearly wage he paid them. Daniel was known as a man who was fair, generous, and hardworking, but not a man to be pushed. He was a listening man who spoke his views only when someone asked him for his opinion.
Mercy remembered hearing Liberty ask Farr if Daniel was planning to take a wife. He had smiled at her and told her that he was sure Daniel would wed when the time was right. Mercy had never heard of Daniel seriously courting a woman unless it was Belinda Martin, a widow who lived with her elderly mother and father. He had danced with her at the Humphrey barn dance, and she had seen him going into the store with her little boy perched on his shoulder. The thought of Daniel and Belinda together made Mercy’s heart plunge. She wasn’t half good enough for him.
“Daniel, have you ever been sorry Mamma and Papa didn’t move to Arkansas Territory with Aunt Amy and Rain?” she asked to get her mind off Daniel with Belinda.
“No, and I think Papa is glad, too, now. Mary Elizabeth was too sick to move, and besides that, Colby Carroll couldn’t come to take over here. It put a quick stop to moving plans. As Farr says, sometimes fate steps in and takes decisions out of a man’s hands. He came here when he was just a stripling, with old Juicy Deverell. They knew men like Tecumseh and Zachary Taylor, and they inspired him to want to do something for this country now. Illinois is his home, and he wants to keep it from becoming a slave state.”
“Is Arkansas going to adopt slavery?”
“It’s anyone’s guess right now. In the southeastern part of the territory there are cotton plantations, and where there are cotton plantations there are slaves. It will be sometime before Arkansas is admitted to the union. The western part is still such a wild and dangerous country with its mountains and fast streams. The land seems to suit Rain and Amy, though. And, in a way, I liked it too.”
“If you liked living there, why did you come back?” Mercy asked quietly.
“I guess I got homesick,” he said with an unashamed grin on his face.
CHAPTER TWO
“Morning.”
Daniel called a greeting to Granny Halpen the following day as he and Mercy passed the rooming house on their way to the school. Granny’s thin, black-draped figure looked fragile, but she declared she was strong as a horse. She had come out onto the porch to sweep the steps as Mercy and Daniel came down the road. Daniel’s hand was firmly attached to Mercy’s elbow, something Granny’s sharp eyes noted immediately.
“Mornin’ to ya. How be ya, Mercy? I’m a thinkin’ yore missing yore ma.”
“Yes, I am.”
“I ’spect ya’ll be leavin’ soon.”
“As soon as school is out.” Mercy called, then murmured to Daniel, “We’re in trouble now. Before mid-morning everyone in town will know you walked me to the school and that you spent the night at the house.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Yes, in a way. I’d hate it if scandal reflected on Mamma and Papa.”
“Our schoolteacher is a fallen woman! She spent the night alone with a man.” He grinned down at her cheerfully.
“Be serious, Daniel!” Mercy looked up at the tall man beside her with worried eyes. “Not all the people here wanted to be represented by Papa. The ones who voted against him, like Glenn Knibee for instance, will be quick to put a bad light on anything that we do.”
“We can’t spend our entire lives worrying about what other folk think of us. Papa would be the first to tell us to do what we thought was right, and to hell with what people think.”
“Yes. He would say that, and Mamma would agree. She would have wanted you to stay with me. Do you think the Baxters have gone?”
“No. They’re still here. I’ve still got their muskets. They’ll not leave without them. Don’t worry about it. As soon as I get you to the school, I’ll go hunt them up and send them on their way.”
Mercy loosened her elbow from his grasp and hugged his arm with both hands. She could feel the muscles ripple under the cloth of his coat. For an instant she pressed her cheek to his upper arm.
“It was comforting to know you were downstairs last night. Thank you for staying with me.”
Daniel moved his hand over the one on his arm and patted it gently. “Since when have you started being so polite, Miss Quill? You know there’s no need for thanks between us.”
They had reached the school. Several students were standing beside the door.
“’Lo, Mr. Phelps.” The girl who spoke to Daniel was Mary Knibee, a brazen fourteen-year-old who was too pretty for her own good. Her hair was black, her skin a clear white. She had enormous blue eyes and long silky lashes she used with great effect. The dress she wore showed off her small waist and well-rounded bosom.
“Hello, Mary.”
Encouraged, Mary sidled over close to Daniel while he waited for Mercy to open the door.
“I’m comin’ to the mill to wait for Pa tonight. Will I see you there?” She tossed her curls back from her face and smiled what she considered her most fetching smile.
“No, I’ll not be there.”
“Ah . . . shoot! I thought you’d be there. I don’t like to wait around by myself.” She licked her red lips, then stuck the lower one out in a pout.
“You won’t be by yourself. George and Turley Blaine will be there. Turley might even make you a reed whistle or some other pretty thing to play with while you’re waiting.”
“A whistle?”
“Would you rather have a doll? He made a doll for the little Kelsey girl. She’s made clothes for it and plays with it when she comes to the mill to wait for her pa.”
“I ain’t wantin’ no doll or no whistle to play with! And I ain’t waitin’ around with no nigger and no old fool like Turley Blaine.” Mary flounced into the school, her back straight and her face red.
Mercy could almost feel sorry for Mary but not quite. The girl could speak correctly when she wanted to, but when she was angry, she reverted to her parents’ way of speaking. Mercy kept her head turned so that the other girls didn’t see the smile she couldn’t suppress. She heard a muffled giggle come from one of them. Mary’s flirtatious ways had not earned her many friends among the female students. It was not going to be a pleasant day. Mary would find fault with everything and everybody, and use any excuse to disrupt the class.
“Go on in, girls.” Mercy swung open the door. “Arabella, you may write the morning Bible verse on the slate.” After the girls filed into the schoolroom, she smiled up at Daniel. “You’ve just made sure that Mary will not learn anything today. She’ll be as cross as a bear with a sore tail.”
“She needs her bottom spanked. Glen Knibee better watch that one, or she’ll drop a babe on his doorstep before he knows it,” Daniel said with a boyish grin that made him suddenly very handsome.
Mercy laughed. “Why, Daniel! I didn’t know men talked of such things.”
Daniel’s heart lightened at the sound of her laughter. It was like the song of a meadow lark, and he had heard it far too seldom of late. Mercy was an extremely prett
y woman. He had heard comments about her beauty from the men who loafed at the mill. None had been disrespectful. It was a well-known fact that Daniel was protective of his foster Sister.
“Granny Halpen doesn’t have an exclusive on gossip. Men gossip too.”
“Even you?” She laughed again.
“I don’t gossip, but I listen. You wouldn’t expect me to close my ears to all the interesting tidbits I hear at the mill, would you? Here’s your dinner.” He handed her the small, cloth-wrapped bundle he’d been carrying for her. “Send one of the boys to the well for water when you need it. I’ll be here when school is out.”
“I hope the Baxters are discouraged enough to leave. I don’t know if I can bear the shame if they go around telling people that I’m their . . . Sister.”
“There’ll be shame only if you let it be,” he said quickly and sharply. “You’ve nothing to be ashamed of. Hold your head up. You’ll be stepped on if you’re lying down but not if you’re standing up looking folks in the eye.”
“You’re right as always, Danny. I’ll make out as long as you’re here with me.” More students arrived, and Mercy asked one of the boys to build a fire in the hearth to take the chill off the room. As she stood at the door waiting for him and the other boys to pass into the schoolroom, she worried aloud. “The Baxters wouldn’t come here to the school, would they?”
“Not if I find them first. Calm down.”
“You’ll be back?”
“I’ll be back before school is out.”
Mercy watched him leave. She had a strong desire to run after him, to take his hand as she had when she was a small, barefoot girl. It had been a happy time with Daniel, Mamma, Papa, Amy, Rain, Grandpa Juicy, and, of course, Colby Carroll and Willa. The family was scattered now. She and Daniel were the only ones left at Quill’s Station. Even Grandpa Elija and Grandma Maude were gone; they had died last year after eating tainted meat.
Mercy heard a commotion in the schoolroom. A bench had been turned over, a girl screeched, and there was a babble of excited voices. Without supervision her pupils were a rowdy group. It was time to bring the class to order, and she went inside, grateful for the work that would keep her mind occupied.
* * *
In the middle of the morning the reader was passed around to the older students so that each could read a passage aloud. Mercy was standing behind one of the boys who was having trouble with the words when the door behind her opened and the room suddenly became quiet.
She turned slowly, almost knowing what she would see. Her hand went to her throat, and the blood flowed from her face, leaving it deathly white. Lenny and Bernie Baxter crowded through the doorway and stood at the back of the room.
The men were even rougher looking in the daylight. Their faces and hands were filthy with ground-in dirt and soot. Their ill-fitting, bedraggled clothes were blackened with smoke and grease stains.
“Get out!” The words exploded from a throat tight with fear.
“We gotter talk ta ya, Hester.” Lenny’s nose was swollen and his lips cut, making his face lopsided.
“You’ve no right to come here. Get out!” she croaked.
“We ain’t goin’. If’n ya want ta talk in front a the young-uns, so be it!”
“No! I’ll talk to you . . . later.”
“That big fellow what stayed the night with ya ain’t goin’ ta let us get in spittin’ range of ya, and that’s gospel.” The silly grin Bernie had had on his face the night before was gone, and in its place was an expression of intense dislike.
The import of Bernie’s words sank into Mercy’s mind slowly. When it did, she realized that fourteen sets of ears had heard them, and the words would be repeated to eight different farm and town families that night. Tomorrow her reputation would be in shreds.
“I must spend this time with my students. Please leave.” She felt cold and hot by turns, and she was not sure her legs would hold her. “I’ll speak to you tonight . . . after school.”
“We ain’t got time ta be pussyfootin’ ’round til ya can jaw with us. Maw’s ailin’ ’n’ we got ter be gettin’ back ta Mud Creek.” Lenny stared at her with hard, bitter eyes.
“I’m sorry about your mother—”
“Ya can’t’ve done forgot Maw, Hester!” Bernie spat out. Sparks of anger danced in his eyes.
“Why are you calling her Hester?” The voice that came from behind Mercy was Mary Knibee’s.
“Hush up, Mary. This isn’t any of your business.”
“It would be my pa’s business if you’re calling yourself Mercy and your name is Hester.” There was unconcealed pleasure in her voice.
“Shut your mouth, Mary,” Arabella said sharply. “Or I’ll shut it for you.”
“You just try!”
The children began to talk excitedly to each other, and Mercy smothered the urge to scream.
“Go on out,” she said to Lenny and Bernie, her voice as calm as she could make it. “I’ll talk to you outside.”
Somehow she managed to move the feet that seemed glued to the floor, and holding her hand, palm out, in front of her and making little pushing movements, she followed them out the door and closed it behind her. Through the door Mercy heard the shrill voice of her students discussing the disruption. Her face burning and her knees quivering with humiliation, Mercy pressed her back against the door. Bernie and Lenny stood in front of her as if they were afraid she would run. “Hold your head up,” Daniel had said. She lifted her chin and looked first Bernie, and then Lenny square in the eye.
“You had no right to come to my school and speak to me about a private matter in front of my students. It was an ill-mannered thing to do.”
“Ill mannered! Hell! Did ya hear that, Lenny?”
“I heared. Ya’ve got uppity livin’ with the high mucks, ain’t ya? Air ya thinkin’ ye’re too good ta be a Baxter?” Lenny sneered.
“It’s what she’s thinkin’,” Bernie said nastily. “She ain’t fit ta be no Baxter nohow, but a Baxter she be as sure as shootin’.”
“All right. It may very well be that I’m . . . your Sister. If what you say about the . . . Baxter brown spot is true.” Mercy almost choked on the words, but she spoke evenly, without a sign of what the words cost her to say.
“I ain’t no liar!” Bernie’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “If’n I’d had my rathers, ya wouldn’t be Hester. Not a cold bitch what don’t care ’bout folks.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Mercy said patiently. “My first memories are of being here with the Quills. As soon as I was old enough to understand, they explained that I was not their child and how I came to be with them. I love them. They are my family. I don’t feel kinship with any of . . . you. Can’t you understand that?”
“Quills ain’t yore folks. Yore folks, what’s left of ’em, is down in Kaintuck on Mud Creek. Yore paw met his maker a time back when a tree fell on him. He be buried alongside four young-uns Maw lost afore they was knee-high. Yore Maw’s flat on her back a-waitin’ fer the dark angel ’n’ grievin’ ta see her little lost girl young-un.”
“But surely she has other children.” Mercy tensed her body as she tried to stop trembling.
“Three boys aside us. Ain’t no more girl young-uns,” Bernie said through tight lips and then spit a stream of brown tobacco juice into the dirt at his feet. “Gid, the youngest boy, ain’t dry behind the ears yet.”
“I’m sorry. Go back and tell her you didn’t find . . . Hester. I can’t—”
“I said I ain’t no liar!” Bernie’s hand shot out and gripped her wrist so viciously that she could scarcely keep from crying out. The bitterness of his stare made the color rise to flood her face, but her lips were white, compressed.
“What do you want of me?” Mercy’s voice was raw.
She looked from one to the other for her answer, but Lenny and Bernie were staring past her up the road. She heard the sound of a running horse and turned to see Daniel on his big buckskin gallopin
g toward the school. Daniel’s hard-boned face was taut with rage. At once her mind jerked awake. Daniel was angry enough to kill them!
Bernie dropped Mercy’s wrist, and the Baxter brothers moved apart, ready for the attack from the man whose anger rode high in his face. Daniel saw Mercy’s fear, and it was enough. He jumped from the horse and smashed his fist into Bernie’s face. One moment Bernie was on his feet, and the next he was flying through the air and landing with a thud on the bare ground. Lenny backed away, shaking his head, his hands held out in front of him.
“We ain’t wantin’ no fight. You ain’t got no right steppin’ inta a family conflab!” He moved over to Bernie, his eyes never leaving Daniel’s face, and extended a hand to help his brother get to his feet. “You ain’t got no right!” His voice echoed shrilly.
Mercy held tightly to Daniel’s arm, scarcely aware that the door had been flung open and that her students were trooping out into the yard.
“Get back in there and shut the door. Right now!” Daniel roared over Mercy’s head. His voice was as harsh and powerful as the jaw that jutted in angry determination and the mouth that was straight and very hard. The children never questioned the order. They scurried back inside.
Mercy hesitated as if to follow them. Then she looked up and met Daniel’s piercing brown eyes. When his hand covered hers, she felt calm and reassured. Together Mercy and Daniel faced the Baxter brothers.
“When I gave you your muskets, I told you to stay away from her. Go on back to Kentucky and leave her alone.” Daniel’s powerful body was tense, ready to fight again.
“Air ya a-lettin’ him do yore talkin’?” Lenny’s angry eyes stared into Mercy’s. “We ain’t goin’.” He shook his head slowly. “We ain’t goin’ till ya come with us ta see Maw.”
“You’re just about this far from getting yourselves killed.” Daniel held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart.
Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] Page 3
