“Daniel . . .” Her voice was thick and strangled, and her heart raced wildly.
He rolled from his blanket and came quickly to kneel beside the wagon. “What is it?”
“Was that . . . wolves?”
The howl came again before he could answer. “Yes, it’s a wolf, but it’s not near.”
“But they hunt in packs.”
“It sounds like a single wolf calling its mate. You needn’t be afraid. He sounds much closer than he is.”
“I can’t help it. I’ve heard . . . stories.”
“All exaggerated, I’m sure. I’ll move my blanket closer if it’ll ease your mind.”
“Please . . .”
Daniel threw his bedroll on the ground beside the wagon, placed his rifle and pistol within reach, and laid down with his back to her. His head was even with her knees, and she could look down on his dark head, lying on his bent arm. She wished with all her heart that she had the right to reach out and touch him, ask him to move up beside her and let her hold him, pillow his head on her breast and share her warmth with him. It’s all so one-sided, my love, she told him silently. She didn’t have anything to offer him but herself, not even a good family background. All she had was a heart full of love for him.
The wolf continued to send its lonely message to the female, who never answered his call. The moon rose reluctantly in the sky, dimming the stars. The wind came up. The air cooled, and Mercy pulled the blanket up around her neck. She was no longer uneasy about the wolf. Daniel was with her. She dozed and drifted off to sleep.
As Mercy came slowly out of a dream, she became aware of the warm hand caressing her ankle. She was not the least bit frightened by the touch. She lay with her eyes closed, her chin buried in the blanket, savoring the wonderful touch that could only be Daniel’s hand. She lifted her lashes a mere fraction to look down. They were lying on their sides facing each other, his face tilted upward toward her face. She could see the gleam of his eyes, watching her in the moonlight, and they felt like a warm hand caressing her cheeks.
She tried to keep her breathing even, lest he know the turmoil of her emotions, but it was difficult. All her senses were focused on that warm hand on her foot. Gradually the warming sensation crept upward to her thigh, and upward still to settle with a powerful throb in the area below her stomach.
The almost overwhelming desire to rub her thighs together caused her mouth to go dry. She closed her eyes tightly. Despite the drowning feeling his touch evoked, Mercy lay as still as a stone lest he take his hand away. Slowly, hesitantly, his fingers moved upward to the calf of her leg and stroked lightly all the way down to her heel. There his hand stayed curled about her ankle.
As she watched, he lowered his face and settled his head more firmly on his arm. Was that a deep sigh she heard? Mercy wondered if she had stirred in her sleep and if his hand on her foot was to reassure her that he was near. Regardless of the reason for his hand being there, this moment was to be remembered as one of the most precious moments in her life.
* * *
At the edge of the clearing the two Baxter brothers squatted in the shadows, their backs to a tree, their rifles on the ground beside them. They had been sitting there since shortly after they left the campfire. With infinite patience they watched the wagon. They heard the wolf howl and knew it for what it was, a loner calling its mate. When they saw Daniel move his bedroll, Bernie threw down the twig he had been chewing on and snorted with disgust.
“See thar! I tol’ ya he’d be under that wagon by mornin’!”
“By granny! Ya was right!”
“We ort to do . . . somethin’. It pure gets my dander up. That thar is our Sister he’s diddlin’ with.”
“Don’t make such a racket,” Lenny cautioned. “He’s as flap-eared as a deer, ’n’ got eyes like a hawk, ’n’ a plumb whirlwind when he’s riled. Ya’ve had a couple settos with him already. Didn’t ya learn nothin’?”
“It’s a plumb disgrace how they carry on. Ya reckon she be one a them loose women what carries on with any man a-tall?”
“I don’t reckon that. Not with Baxter blood! But I’m right bambozzled over it. It’s got ta be put right. There ain’t no two ways about it. I ain’t takin’ no whore home to Maw.”
“If’n Maw’s there.” Bernie’s words came after a long sigh.
“She said she’d hold on,” Lenny said carefully.
There was a silence as both the brothers pondered the sorrow that might await them when they reached home.
“Hit’s just come to me!” Lenny stood and picked up his rifle. “I done got me a idea what we got to do, Bernie, ’n’ we can do it tomorry. By jigger! It’ll take some doin’, but a Baxter don’t back down from a hard chore.”
“I’ll be hornswoggled if’n I know what ya’re talkin’ about. I done thought on it till I’m tired.”
“I’m talkin’ about puttin’ it right, ya dunderhead! If’n ya’d use yore head for somethin’ besides scratchin’, you’d know there ain’t but one thin’ to do.”
“We ain’t got no time to do nothin’ but to kill him.”
“We ain’t killin’ him! We ain’t never done a man in if’n he warn’t tryin’ to do us in. The fellers been kinda . . . decent, considerin’.”
“Guess we ain’t ort to kill him. Sister’d be sure to tell Maw, ’n’ she don’t sit still for killin’, exceptin’ if they’re shootin’ at us.”
The brothers went back to where they had unpacked their mules. Bernie sank down on his blanket and stretched out.
“I’m just plumb petered out, Lenny. When we get home, I’m goin’ ta sleep a week.”
“Get up! Ya ain’t home yet,” Lenny said sharply. “We got plannin’ to do.”
CHAPTER TEN
Morning came, and Mercy tried to meet Daniel’s look with smiling calm while an almost frantic thrill leapt within her at the thought of his warm fingers on her foot. Nothing in his manner indicated that for him that morning was different from any other. He made tea and they used it to wash down the hoecake left over from the night before. When they finished, they went about breaking camp and packing the wagon as the sun was sending streaks of light up over the eastern hills.
The Baxters didn’t come to their breakfast fire, but they were waiting on the trail when Daniel guided Zelda out onto the road. They rode ahead without as much as a greeting.
“I wonder what’s got into them,” Mercy said when the brothers moved their mules on ahead at a brisk trot.
Daniel chuckled. “Who knows. I thought you softened them up last night.”
“They’re hard to talk to. They don’t tell me a thing unless I ask.”
“You’ll know about them soon enough. Lenny said we should be there by mid-morning tomorrow.”
“Will we camp out again tonight?”
“If we don’t come to a place where I can get a bed for you, we’ll have to.”
“I’d rather camp than stay in a place like we stayed the first night.”
Mercy watched a large snake slither across the trail ahead. Zelda broke stride and whinnied.
Daniel slapped the reins gently. “Go on girl. That’s just a harmless old grass snake. It’s scared of you too.”
“Ugh!” Mercy shivered. “I don’t blame Zelda. Snakes give me the chills. I even hate a big worm.”
“Then there’d be no point in taking you fishing.” Daniel looked down at her. His deep, dark eyes were dancing with devilment, and the slight, upturning smile of his lips was boyish.
Mercy swallowed the large lump blocking her throat. Today everything seemed to take on a new, different, and wonderful meaning. He was an extraordinarily handsome man: broad shoulders, trim waist, long legs, and the most beautiful eyes in the world. She wanted to ask, “When did you shave?” Instead she said, “Bernie caught the fish last night with chicken meat. Did you see the chicken bone fall out of his pocket?”
“I saw it.” Daniel chuckled again. “They’re quite a pair. I could almost l
ike them if they weren’t so bullheaded.”
“I suspect it’s a Baxter trait.”
He smiled down at her again. “I suspect you’re right.”
“I wonder what the rest of the Baxters are like. I hope they’re not all like that young Gideon. It sounds like he’s had no upbringing at all.”
“What’s wrong with wild and horny?” Daniel asked with an innocent look on his face.
“What’s wrong? Why . . . why, Daniel Phelps, you know what’s wrong!”
“There you go . . . sputtering. You don’t even know what it means.” Laughter rippled in his voice.
“I do too know what it means. It means that at age fifteen he’s got bastards spread all over the county!” Her voice was curt, her chin up, and her face as red as the morning sunrise. “They were so quick to condemn me because you spent the night in the house with me, but they think it’s funny that Gideon . . . does what he does.”
“It seems that they have a different set of rules for the women of the family,” Daniel said patiently, trying not to laugh at the indignant look on her face.
“Well! They’re not telling me what to do. “I’ll set them straight about that.”
“You do that and I’ll back you up.”
“You’re laughing at me!”
“Yeah, I am.” He smiled into her eyes, reached across her lap, and patted her bent knee. “It’s fun to get you riled up. It used to be my favorite thing to do. You’d shout, ‘You don’t know everything, Daniel Phelps.’ Remember saying that?”
“And you’d say, ‘You silly girl. I know more than you do, I’m older.’ You would make me so mad that I’d cry.”
“I remember.”
“We’ve been together a long time, Daniel.”
“Yes, a long time,” he said quietly.
* * *
They passed through the rich bottomland stretching black and loamy on either side of the Green River, which cut a deep gash through central Kentucky, and entered low, clustering green hills. They followed a pike that wound around jutting slopes and across small rocky streams that divided the hills that rammed each other. At times the pike clung to the rocky ledges; at other times it passed through woods so dense and dark that no brush grew beneath the trees.
Although Mercy and Daniel had not seen Bernie and Lenny since they’d entered the hills, there was only one track, and they kept a steady pace. Daniel led the way on his buckskin, and Zelda followed him across rocky streams and through thick, sweet-smelling pines.
Stopping at noon beside a clear, gurgling creek, they ate jerky and raisins and drank water from the fast-moving stream. When they started up again, Daniel was on the seat beside Mercy, and his buckskin was tied behind the wagon. Mercy had never felt so good, so free, so happy. Being alone with Daniel in the deep woods was like a dream. A sudden worry caused her to frown. Dreams seldom came true. She looked at Daniel’s profile; concentration furrowed his brow. I love you, she told him silently. She didn’t want this to be a dream. She wanted to be with him forever, but not as a Sister. She wanted to be his lover, his friend, his mate.
“Why are you frowning?” Daniel’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Are you worried about meeting the rest of the Baxters?"
His serious eyes looked into hers. He was so very dear to her that she couldn’t lie to him. Yet she couldn’t tell him her thoughts.
“What if Mrs. . . . Baxter has already passed on?”
“Then we’ll go home.” He passed the reins to his left hand and reached for her with his right. “Come closer.”
She went willingly, her shoulder tucked behind his, her hip and thigh in contact with his.
“You’re not to worry.” He said the words simply. “We’ll see her, then we’ll go home.”
Mercy placed her hand on his thigh, and his hand dropped immediately to cover it. She turned her face away, but he saw a glimmer of tears.
“You trust me, don’t you, Mercy?” he asked in a voice so low and concerned that she looked at him quickly. “I said I’d take you home, and I will.”
“I know you will, Danny,” she said softly, turning her palm up to lace her fingers between his. Theirs was a companionship that needed no words. Being with Daniel was all the security she needed.
In the middle of the afternoon they came out of the low hills and into a wide valley. In the distance, a small settlement squatted on the flatland. As they drew nearer, the buildings took the shape of a gristmill, a blacksmith shop, a store, and perhaps half a dozen houses. A church spire loomed up between the store and the blacksmith shop, and as they came closer they could see a small stained-glass window in the church. Smoke curled up from the smithy’s forge and from the chimneys of several houses. The clang of the blacksmith’s hammer rang out with regularity. It was not an unpleasant sound.
Their arrival was announced by several dogs that came bounding out from beneath the store’s porch, yelping and scattering squawking chickens. The wiry birds ran a few yards, then flew a few yards, in their rush to get out of the way of the dogs and the approaching wagon. Zelda kicked halfheartedly at the curs that nipped at her heels. The buckskin snorted, and the dogs kept their distance from his sharp hooves.
“This must be Coon Hollow.” Daniel pulled Zelda to a stop in front of the blacksmith shop.
“Is this the nearest town to the Baxters?” Mercy asked.
“No. Lenny said the closest settlement didn’t have a blacksmith. So there must be one more.”
A man came from beneath the shed. He was bare to the waist, and his body glistened with sweat. His shoulders seemed to be a yard wide, and his arms were knotted with muscles. He held a hammer in a hand that looked as if it could knock a mule to its knees.
“How do. If ye be Phelps, Lenny Baxter said tell ya to keep goin’. He be waitin’ up ahead.”
“I’m obliged to you.”
Mercy wanted to ask him if there was any news about Mrs. Baxter, but the man turned and went back to his anvil, took up a shoe with his tongs, and shoved it into the fire. They drove out of the settlement with the same racket as when they entered: yelping dogs and squawking chickens.
The valley was longer than it appeared to be. It was late afternoon when they left it, crossed through a pass between two sets of hills, and entered another valley. The sun was sinking behind the hills to the west when they smelled wood smoke and saw the black curl that came from a chimney in the distance.
On this, the third and last night before reaching the Baxters, Mercy hoped they could stay at a place that would provide her enough privacy for a bath. She was disappointed to discover that the house they approached was not much larger than a good-sized wagon. However, there was a shed attached, and out back she could see the Baxters’ mules and a horse tethered.
Lenny stood in the doorway. As they neared, he came out and signaled for Daniel to bring the wagon to the side of the house. Daniel complied, pulling Zelda to a stop. He jumped down and lifted Mercy from a high seat.
“This ain’t much of a place,” Lenny said. “But it’s better’n in the open.”
“Who lives here?” Mercy reached into the wagon for her bag as Daniel began unhitching Zelda.
“Nobody. It was Old Man Mertser’s, but he passed on.” Lenny untied Daniel’s buckskin and led him away without another word.
Mercy stood beside the wagon holding her carpetbag and wondered how it could be that she could be a Sister to Lenny and Bernie Baxter. Their ways, their dress, their speech—all were so foreign to her. She had to admit to a family resemblance—the blond hair and blue eyes. But there was not the slightest bit of warmth in the brothers’ eyes when they looked at her.
She heard a scraping sound inside the cabin, as if someone had moved a chair over a rough floor. It came to Mercy that if no one lived here, who did the horse belong to? Daniel came back to the wagon, followed by Lenny.
“Lenny, who’s in there with Bernie?” she asked.
“Some of the kin. He’ll be ridin’ out.”
“Did he bring news of . . . your mother?” In her thoughts the woman was Mrs. Baxter, and she could not bring herself to say my mother. Somehow it would seem disloyal to Liberty Quill, who had been the only mother she could remember.
“Nope. He ain’t heard.”
Mercy stepped into the cabin. There was a front door and a back door but no windows. Both doors stood open, and a fire blazed in a cobbledstone hearth. Bernie stood back in a corner, his wiry blond hair looking as if it had never known the feel of a brush. He evaded her eyes when she looked at him. Of the two brothers, she decided, Lenny was the more reasonable.
A thin man with a head of white hair and a beard that came down to the middle of his chest pushed a chair back from a table and stood up when they entered. He wore a black coat that was much too large for his thin frame. It sagged on his shoulders, and the sleeves hung down over his hands.
“What the hell!”
Startled, Mercy turned quickly to Daniel. He had let her bag fall to the floor and tried to grab the pistol from his belt. The barrel of Lenny’s rifle was in the middle of his back, and he was forced to toss the pistol aside.
“Lenny!” Mercy’s heart dropped to her toes when she saw the snarl on brother’s face. “What are you doing? Are you out of your mind?”
“Ain’t nothin’ like that. Stand still,” he snapped at Daniel. “I’d jist as soon shoot ya ’n’ be done with it.” He emphasized each of his words with a vicious poke of the rifle barrel.
“Stop that!”
“Hush up, Hester! This here’s men’s business. I’ve had me enough o’ yore woman’s sass. Cousin Farley, here, is goin’ to wed ya up to this son of a bitch what ruint ya from ever gettin’ a decent man. We is seein’ that ya is done right by afore we take ya home to Maw.”
Mercy could scarcely believe what she heard. It took a minute before she could gather her wits to reply. When she did, angry words poured out of her mouth.
Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] Page 17
