Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River]

by River of Tomorrow

  “Are you sending Dovie to Springfield with Turley? Is that why you were telling Mike that Turley would be by the store? You said that for Mr. Brown’s benefit, didn’t you?” Mercy began to clear the dishes from the table.

  “You ask more questions than a four-year-old. I’ll say what Mamma used to say when you asked things you had no business knowing. She would say that what a woman didn’t know she couldn’t tell.”

  “I’m not a blabbermouth, and you know it, Daniel Phelps!” She stood beside his chair, glaring down at him. He tilted his head to look up at her, and she could see the teasing glint in his eyes. “Sometimes you make me so mad. I’m not a child, you know,” she said impudently, but she was smiling.

  A lovely, leaping flame of desire flickered through Daniel as his gaze followed her about the kitchen. She was so much a woman, he could never think of her as a child. He felt the urge, when she passed him, to seize her arm and pull her down onto his lap, bury his face against the warm, scented flesh of her neck, and tell her he had waited all his life for her to grow up. But he knew to do so would be disastrous. She was not ready to think of him as a man who wanted her in all the ways a man wanted the woman he loved. He stood. For a long moment he stared at the nape of her neck while she worked at the stove. He had an almost overwhelming desire to touch her. Why didn’t he? She was his woman, wasn’t she? What if he went to her, put his arms around her, and drew her back against his chest?

  Don’t be stupid, Phelps, an inner voice cautioned. He must bide his time. This was new to him. He must think of what a shock it would be to her. In order to hide the feelings that had sprung up restlessly within him, he picked up the teakettle and went to the washbench to shave.

  * * *

  They met on the porch for the walk to the schoolhouse. Although they were unaware of it, they were a handsome couple. Rich morning sunlight filtered through Mercy’s hair, turning it to the color of ripe wheat. The head that rode proudly on her slender neck came to just inches above his shoulder. Her dark skirt and white shirtwaist were covered with a long, dark shawl, folded across her breasts and held in place by her crossed arms.

  Daniel’s dark hair was still wet from the morning combing. On his jaw, the small cut oozing a drop of blood was evidence of his inner turmoil as he attempted to rid his face of several days’ growth of dark beard. The front-lacing leather shirt hugged his broad shoulders and hung down over duck breeches that were tucked into calf-high boots. Always aware of what was going on around him, his dark eyes saw everything that moved; his ears were alert for any foreign sound.

  They walked easily, step matching step, and turned the bend in the road. The sun behind them cast two long shadows before them. As they neared the settlement, the tall shadow moved closer to the slender one, blending into one.

  “Jeems is going to dress out a chicken today,” Daniel said, his hand cupping her elbow and holding her close to his side. “Do you suppose I can have chicken and dumplings for supper?”

  “I suppose so,’” she said absently. Then, “I wonder why so many wagons are at the store this time in the morning. Is that Glenn Knibee’s?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Could it be because of . . . Dovie?”

  “Not likely. It’s time to start planting. Mike is always busy this time of year.”

  When Daniel glanced down to see if Mercy had accepted his explanation, he saw her lips pressed so tightly together that they made a crease beside her mouth. As they passed the store, they heard the sound of male voices raised in a heated argument and Mike’s voice telling someone to watch his mouth or he would close it for him.

  Granny Halpen came out onto the porch of the rooming house as they approached. She let the door slam behind her, leaned on her broom, and watched the couple coming down the road.

  “Morning, Mrs. Halpen,” Daniel called.

  Granny turned her back, and the stiff straw broom swished vigorously back and forth across the steps. After Daniel and Mercy passed, they heard a loud, “Humph!”

  Daniel looked down at Mercy’s face. It was a dull red, but blanched to white as he watched. He moved his hand down her arm, grasped her bare wrist with strong fingers, and drew her even closer to him. They walked smoothly together, his stride matching hers.

  “Don’t let one gossipy old woman bother you.”

  “I . . . can’t help it.”

  They were silent until they reached the schoolhouse. Daniel shoved open the door.

  “It’s early. I’ll build a fire.”

  Mercy whipped the shawl from her head and let it settle on her shoulders. Taking the broom that leaned in the corner, she began to sweep around the table that was her desk, and the two long tables and benches where the younger students sat. Against each of the side walls was a table and bench, one side for boys, one for girls. The hearth had a brick chimney that went straight up through the roof.

  As she swept, Mercy thought about how she had prevailed upon her father to make the extra tables, to place the hooks in the walls for coats and shawls, and to build the necessary building out back. She had paid for the lamp from her first earnings, even though her father had said he and Mike would donate one. It wasn’t a fancy school like the ones in Vincennes, but it was her school, and she alone was responsible for the education the children in and around Quill’s Station would receive. When she finished sweeping, she stood the broom back in the corner.

  Daniel had the fire going in the hearth and opened the door a crack to make the draft take the smoke up the chimney.

  “You don’t need to wait,” Mercy said when Daniel sat down on one of the benches. “I don’t mind being here alone. The children will be along soon.”

  “I’ll wait a few minutes.”

  Ten minutes passed, then twenty. At the ten-minute mark Mercy knew that the children were not coming, but she said nothing. She sat at her desk with her hands clasped tightly in front of her, staring at the door. Daniel sat on the bench against the wall with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped and dangling between them.

  The soft knock on the back door caused both their heads to swivel around toward it. Mercy glanced at Daniel, then, with a quivering smile, got up to lift the bar and open the door. Arabella, with tears streaming down her face, beckoned to Mercy and ran to the outhouse. Mercy turned to Daniel with mute appeal in her eyes.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He nodded, wishing for a way to wash the hurt from her face and wanting to strangle a dozen fools.

  Inside the outhouse there was scarcely enough room for Mercy and Arabella. Arabella was sobbing, her head buried in an arm as she leaned against the wall. Mercy held the door closed with one hand and drew the girl to her with the other.

  “What in the world is the matter?”

  “We can’t come to school no more, Miss Quill. That piss-ant Mary Knibee and her pa came by last night and told Ma and Pa . . . bad things about you. They said . . . they said . . . They won’t let me come. Oh, I hate Mary! I hate her!”

  “What did they say?” Mercy asked quietly.

  “They said your name is Hester. That . . . your people are . . . trash. They said you didn’t come from . . . good stock, that it’s showin’ up now. They said you’re pretending to be somebody.”

  “If all of that were true, it’s no reason to keep you from coming to school. I can still teach.”

  “And they said you . . . you was forn . . . forncate. I can’t say it. But you were doin’ it with Mr. Phelps while the Quills were gone.”

  The teacher in Mercy caused her to say. “The word is fornicate, Arabella. The word means to . . . mate with someone you’re not married to. Mr. Phelps and I have not done that. He’s like a brother to me. I was afraid to stay alone because of the men who came here to the school yesterday. I asked him to stay with me. Tell your parents that.”

  “I can’t, Miss Quill, they won’t listen. Mary and her pa have got everybody all riled up. Pa says when school starts up again, they’ll get a n
ew teacher. He says even a Indian’d be better. I’ve got to go. I slipped off to come tell you. If Pa finds out I’ve been here, I’ll get a whippin’.”

  “Thank you for telling me, Arabella. I’m sorry your parents feel the way they do. Go on home now, before someone sees you here.”

  Mercy walked slowly back to the schoolhouse after the girl left. Her thoughts spiraled to the only woman she had ever known who had been thoroughly disgraced. It had happened right here at Quill’s Station. Her husband had caught her in bed with her lover. He had killed the French and Indian trapper and had beaten his wife unmercifully. He turned her out, denying her the right even to see her children. Later, after she had been found hanging from a tree down by the river, the man took his children and moved away.

  Now she, Mercy Quill, was in disgrace and was perfectly innocent of any wrongdoing. She might be Hester Baxter posing as Mercy Quill, but she hadn’t known about it until two days ago. After seeing Lenny and Bernie, they had judged her as coming from inferior stock, unfit to teach their children. They assumed that she and Daniel had slept in the same bed because he was at the house all night. The unfairness of it was beyond her understanding.

  She walked through the back door of the schoolhouse and straight into Daniel’s arms. He stood there in the middle of the room beside her table with his arms open, his brows beetled with concern. She went to him. He wrapped his arms around her. She turned her cheek to his chest and leaned against him, huddled close in his arms, too numb to cry.

  She was like a small, sweet-smelling, boneless kitten; so vulnerable, so damned defenseless. He desperately wished for a way to shield her from hurt. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. What the hell was the matter with people? Why didn’t they realize how fortunate they were to have her teaching their kids? Holding her tightly against him, Daniel vowed he would do something to make it right. He would, by God, or he would crack some heads.

  It was a long time before she spoke, and when she did, it was in a low, husky voice that sounded as if she needed to clear her throat.

  “I’m in disgrace, Danny.”

  He said nothing.

  “They don’t think I’m fit to teach their children.”

  He said a curse word against the top of her head.

  “They think I’m sleeping with you. You, my brother! How could they think that of me?”

  “Goddamn!” The word he murmured was for two different reasons.

  “It’s because the Baxters came looking for me.”

  He grunted agreement, his heart hurting for her.

  “Maybe it isn’t their fault. They love their mother and are trying to ease her dying. I can’t hate them for that.”

  His crossed arms tightened, and his hands stroked her arms, which hung at her sides. Her voice was so full of sadness and defeat that he wanted to hurt someone, anyone. At that moment Daniel wished he had shot the Baxters and dragged their bodies off to the river that first night he’d found them with her. The thought shocked him. Lord Almighty! He’d never wished anyone dead before. Is that what love did to a man?

  “There’s no point in staying here,” he said softly to the top of her head.

  “Where can I go?” Her voice was wooden.

  “You can go home or to the mill with me until I can take you out to my place. This will blow over. It needs a little time. I’ll go speak to the families and explain what happened.”

  “No! We’ve done nothing we have to explain.” She placed her hands on his arms and moved back to look up into his face. The spirit seemed to flow back into her with the uttered words. Her chin came up, her body stiffened, and she turned away from him to cross her arms over her chest and look out the door. When she turned back, her jaw was set stubbornly, her lips pressed into an angry slash. “Damn them! Damn them to hell and back for not knowing or caring what they are doing to their own children!” She poked at his chest with her forefinger to give emphasis to the words. “And don’t tell me not to swear. I feel like swearing. It feels good to swear! Damn! Goddammit! Hell! Hellfire! Shitfire!” she added defiantly.

  “Mercy Quill! I may have to wash your mouth out with soap,” Daniel said sternly, but he was smiling.

  “I’m just so mad! The fools are depriving their children of an education because of their narrow-mindedness.”

  “That’s true.”

  “They don’t want me to teach their children because they think—they think—I’m a fallen woman. They didn’t want Tennessee to teach because she’s part Indian. I’m not a fallen woman, and Tennessee is smarter than all of those ignorant, narrow-minded, wooden-headed farmers put together.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  “Not two parents among the eight families can read and write. Oscar Walker didn’t want Robert to come to school, but Nettie Walker insisted. Oscar said Robert didn’t need to know how to read in order to plow.” Anger had loosened Mercy’s tongue. “They are so stubborn, they want their kids to be stupid too. Glenn Knibee’s fourteen-year-old daughter can twist him right around her little finger.” Mercy held up her finger and circled it with the forefinger of her other hand.

  Their gazes locked; his was proud, hers angry.

  “If Glenn Knibee thinks I’m going to shut down the school, he’s shouting down the rain barrel, Daniel.” She shook her finger beneath his nose before she sat down at her desk. “I’ll be right here in case one of the families come to their senses. I’ll sit here until time for school to be over and . . . to hell with the Baxters!”

  “Now hold on. There’s no point in staying here alone.”

  She looked at him steadily, then got to her feet.

  “You’re right!” Her sudden about-face surprised him.

  “I’m glad you agree.”

  “I’ll not stay here. And it isn’t because of the Baxters. It’s because I’m going down to the store to tell Glenn Knibee what a . . . a horse’s ass he is!” She pulled her shawl up, lapped it across her bosom, and headed for the door.

  “Wait a minute. That’s my job.”

  “Education is not your job. It’s mine.” Mercy walked right out the door.

  “Anything that concerns you is my business.”

  She stopped on the step, turned and looked into Daniel’s concerned brown eyes while her mind groped for something to say.

  “Oh, Danny! You’ve been my friend, my brother, my childhood playmate. All my life I’ve been willing to hang back and let you take care of me.”

  “I’m not stopping now,” he said evenly, although her words about his being her friend and brother had hit him like a fist in the stomach.

  “I think it’s time to stand on my own two feet and not depend on you to make things right for me. I’m not going to lie down and let people like Glenn Knibee walk on me! If I have to leave Quill’s Station in disgrace, it will be with my head up, not crawling on my knees.”

  “Leave Quill’s Station? What the hell are you talking about?”

  She sucked in her breath. “I . . . don’t know why I said that. I’ve no place to go except to Vandalia, and I’ll not take my troubles to Mamma and Papa. They’ve done enough for me.”

  “You’ll come out to my place. Minnie and Rose will take care of you. I want you there.”

  She was unaware of the intensity of his last words.

  “I’m not running with my tail between my legs. I’m going up to that store, then I’m going home. You don’t have to stay with me. I’m no longer afraid of the Baxters or what they’ll say about me being their Sister. They won’t harm me. I’m sure of that.”

  “They sure as hell won’t, because they won’t get the chance.” Daniel closed the door to the school and took her arm. “If you’re determined to go bait the bear, let’s go.”

  As they retraced their steps up the road, Mercy could see that Glenn Knibee’s wagon, as well as two others were still in front of the store and that Granny Halpen sat in her rocking chair on the porch of the rooming house. The inevitable snuff stick
was firmly embedded in the corner of the old woman’s mouth, her birdlike eyes taking in everything in sight. Granny’s imaginative mind always conceived its own distorted images of what went on in Quill’s Station. As they neared the rooming house, Mercy deliberately veered toward the side of the road that passed within a few feet of the porch.

  “You’d better come on up to the store, Granny,” Mercy called cheerfully, but Daniel heard the strain in her voice. “I’m going to tell Glenn Knibee just what a stupid, narrow-minded jackass he is. You should hear it straight from the harlot’s mouth. It’ll give you enough to talk about all summer.”

  Granny’s mouth fell open. The snuff stick slipped out, and a dark stain trickled from the corner of her mouth. Mercy Quill admitting she was a harlot was more than Granny’s mind could absorb all at one time.

  Daniel couldn’t hold back the deep chuckle that rumbled up from his chest. “You could have caused Granny to swallow that snuff stick by giving her news like that. You’ve really got your dander up, haven’t you, honey?”

  “Yes, I have. I’m dandered up good, and I mean to have my say. Oh . . . Mr. Knibee,” she called when a burly man came out and stepped off the porch of the store and headed for the wagon. “I’d like a word with you.”

  The man turned, grabbed the porch post, and hauled himself back up onto the porch. He waited, his hands resting on the pouches of fat on his sides. Mercy walked up to within a few feet of him and looked him straight in the eye.

  “I understand you’ve been busy carrying gossip to the parents of my students. You would do well to mind your own business and take care of your daughter instead of spreading tales that prevent other children from getting an education.”

  “If’n a teacher ain’t fit ta teach our young-uns, ’tis my duty ta tell it.” He stuck his chin out belligerently and turned to go to his wagon. Mercy wanted to slap him but held her hands firmly against her sides.

  “And who says I’m not fit to teach?” Her sharp words brought him back around to face her.