“Ya ain’t Hester’s kin, mister. ’Nother thing, down on Mud Creek no decent woman’d be spendin’ the night with a feller if’n they ain’t wedded or blood kin. You’d be horsewhipped if’n brothers Wyatt and Hod heard of it. Me ’n’ Bernie done thought on it. We ain’t sayin’ nothin’ ’bout it to Maw or nobody, or it’ll get out ’n’ the Baxters will be looked down on.”
“You’d better get the hell out of here while you can walk because I’m about to shoot your legs out from under you.”
The raw violence in Daniel’s voice made Mercy tremble. She glanced up and saw the muscles in his jaws jerk nervously as he fought to contain his anger. His whole body was like a tight coil, ready to spring; his fists clenched and unclenched. His face was twisted with smoldering rage. In all the years she had known him, she had never seen him so angry. She was suddenly afraid he would lose control and kill the two men who faced him. Her hands gripped his arm tightly.
“We’ll go, fer now.” Anger and resentment blazed in Lenny’s eyes when he looked at Mercy. “Ya ain’t fit to be no Baxter nohow. Ain’t no Baxter I heared of what wouldn’t go ’n’ ease the pain of a dyin’ maw what went down in the valley a death to birth ’em. Ya’ve done been ruint, sure as sin.”
Mercy stood close to Daniel’s tall, powerful body, her two hands clasped about his arm. They watched the Baxters until they disappeared into the woods. When she looked up at the tall man beside her, her blue eyes were strained and overbright.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.
“About them? Leave them to me.”
“No. I keep wondering if I should . . . go see her.”
“Is that what you want to do?” he asked gently.
“I don’t know what I want to do.”
“I could take you to Vandalia. Tennessee can take over the school.”
“No! I couldn’t do that. They’d follow me. I know they would, and I . . . couldn’t bear to have Mamma and Papa mixed up in this.”
“You don’t have to decide anything now. We’ll talk about it tonight. Do you want to dismiss school for the day?”
“No. I’ve got to face my students sooner or later. It may as well be now. Things won’t be any different tomorrow.”
“I’ll come in with you if you want me to.”
“No. But make sure they don’t come back.” Mercy cast a fearful look over her shoulder.
“I’ll make sure of it. Go on in.” He squeezed the hand on his arm and opened the door.
* * *
Daniel mounted his horse, his eyes searching along the road for a sign of the Baxters. Neither was in sight, but that didn’t mean they were not lurking in the woods. He walked his horse along the road, his eyes scanning the edge of the forest for any movement. From up ahead he heard a dog bark, and then another chimed in. He urged his horse into a trot, and when he rounded the bend in the road, he could see two riders ahead. The Baxters were heading south. Old man Gordon’s dogs were nipping at the heels of the mules they were riding.
Daniel pulled his mount to a stop. As he watched them, one turned and looked back. They want me to think they’re leaving, Daniel thought. He wished to hell they would, but there was only a small chance of it. He had seen the determination in Lenny Baxter’s eyes. He might be able to buy or scare off the younger Baxter, but not Lenny.
He turned his horse and rode toward the mill, trying to figure out what to do about the men who claimed kin to Mercy. The only wrong they had done so far was to burst into the house and manhandle her. Although that made Danny want to kill them, it was not enough reason to call in the law. Besides, Mercy would hate the fuss that would stir up. Daniel decided that whatever was to be done, he would have to do it himself.
The wind was coming up and driving rain clouds toward him from the northwest. Daniel pulled up the collar of his coat and wondered how Mercy was going to hold up under the pressure of dealing with her real brothers. He and Mercy had not been as close the last few years as when they were children. He had spent a couple of years in Arkansas; she had lived for a year with the Colby Carrolls in Carrolltown. He had been busy with the mill and the farm; she with the school. They had been together only for occasional Sunday dinners and on holidays.
All these years he had been as fiercely protective of Mercy as any brother would be of a Sister, but he had not touched her for years, not until last night. What a lovely, soft woman she had grown up to be. It had been such a jolt to his senses to feel her small, firm breasts against his chest, her soft arms about his neck, that he had remained awake the better part of the night thinking about it.
Daniel thought about the women he had held and had kissed. Belinda Martin, for one. She was a pretty woman and would have fallen in bed with him in a minute if he had made the right moves. He had thought about it. At times he wanted a woman so badly that he got out of bed and walked the floor. But bedding Belinda would mean marriage, and he wanted to feel that the woman he married was something more to him than a vessel to ease his aching loins. Whores were available to do that.
It suddenly occurred to Daniel, as he rode up to the mill and dismounted, why casual kisses and New Orleans whores had been so disappointing. He wanted to love his woman as Farrway Quill loved his, and he wanted her to love him back equally as much.
Nothing he had experienced before had been like holding the long, soft length of Mercy against him, feeling her heartbeat against his chest, her warm breath on his neck, and smelling the sweet scent of her body.
The secret that had been wrapped up and hidden away in the back of his mind for as long as he could remember suddenly came forth and unfolded. Mercy was his woman, his alone, to love and cherish, as it was meant to be.
* * *
It was the most miserable day of Mercy’s life. The children were too excited and curious about what had happened to settle down and concentrate on anything. Mary Knibbe was delighted with what had taken place. She watched Mercy with a smug smile on her face and made numerous remarks about “teacher” and Mr. Phelps. One time she called her Miss Hester, then corrected it quickly to Miss Quill. Mercy tried to ignore her, but it was hard to do. She was sure that Mary was counting the minutes until she could leave the school and spread the news about Daniel’s spending the night at the Quill house.
The day dragged slowly by. The sky darkened with rain clouds, and Mercy had to light the lamp. She gathered her younger children, three boys and one girl, around her and held up the cards with the alphabet on them.
“Charles, what is this letter?”
“W for . . . warthog!” The boy laughed and looked over his shoulder at the older students to see if they appreciated his answer.
Mercy ignored him and flashed another card. “Jason?”
“P for . . . poot, what Pa does after supper.”
Mercy closed her eyes tightly, then slammed them open when she heard the loud snickering.
“That’s enough!” She snapped out another card. “Agnes?”
“B for baby, what Ma says a girl’ll get if she don’t keep her legs together.”
Mercy looked at Agnes’s sweet little face in stunned, openmouthed silence, before panic set in. The child gave her an impish grin. The room was deathly quiet as the students waited to see what teacher would do. Mercy quickly flipped another card.
“Robert?”
“T for . . . turd, horse turd, cow turd . . .”
Gales of laughter erupted. Mercy slammed her hand down on the desk.
“Quiet!” she shouted. She was losing control of the class. For the first time in three years she was losing control. “Go stand in the corner, all four of you. No, not the same corner, Robert. This room has four corners for four naughty children.”
By the time the afternoon ended and it came time to dismiss school, Mercy’s nerves were at the breaking point and she had a throbbing headache. Nevertheless, she pasted a smile on her face and stood beside the door while the children put on their wraps before going out into the lig
ht rain, pushed by a cold March wind.
“’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.”
CHAPTER THREE
It 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 clo
sed 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.
Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] Page 4
