Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River]

by River of Tomorrow

  Daniel got up to put the campfire out with the water left in the teakettle. “I thought of something last night while you were asleep. We can be married again by another preacher, or we can go to the courthouse in Evansville and be married by a magistrate if you want.”

  “Would you feel more married if we did?”

  “No, but I thought you might want a nice wedding to remember.”

  Mercy laughed in joyful abandonment. The sound soared, pure and sweet, right up to the tops of the giant tree.

  “I’ve got a wedding to remember. I may be the only bride in the world that shouted, ‘Yes, I’ll take him,’ to the preacher who was so deaf, he couldn’t hear. Let’s keep our wedding, Daniel. It’s a wedding to tell our children about.”

  When they left the clearing in the bend of the creek, the sky above was overcast, but they could see the sun shining on the hills ahead. Sitting close beside Daniel, her shoulder behind his, her hip and thigh snugly against his, Mercy had no thoughts except of him. She was happy, so happy! There would be no lonely future for her; she and Daniel would be together forever.

  Daniel, however, was thinking about the fresh tracks on the trail. Two riders were up ahead. Between them and the river, where they would take the ferry, was a twisting, winding trail through dense woods. The perfect place for robbers lay along that stretch. Daniel reasoned that as long as he could see the tracks of the two horsemen, they were in no danger from them. But if they cut off into the woods, it would mean trouble.

  Beside him, totally unaware of any danger, Mercy chatted happily. “Mamma is going to be pleased. Now that I think about it, I think she wished for us to fall in love. She said that cowlick, that thing that causes your hair to grow in the wrong direction, and the dimple in your chin were signs of admirable qualities. Did you know that?”

  “I didn’t know that. I hope that you’re suitably impressed with your husband’s admirable qualities.”

  “Oh, you!” Her laughter rang in the quiet stillness. It had a joyous, earthy quality, like the wind.

  Daniel’s eyes, dark and intense, clung to her like a caressing hand for long seconds. They traveled lovingly over her face, her passionate red mouth, laughing eyes, windtousled hair, and down the tight, slim body and firm, round breasts. This was his bride, the love of his life. Now a silent prayer was in his heart: Dear God, let me keep her safe.

  They entered the woods, and Mercy lapsed into silence, sensing Daniel’s preoccupation. He watched the trail ahead, his face still, his eyes moving from side to side. She felt his arm tense, and her eyes were drawn to the pistol on the floor. If it became necessary, if someone threatened Daniel, she could grab it and shoot.

  The thought had just crossed her mind when Daniel spoke softly. “Pick up the pistol, honey. Hold it in your lap.”

  Mercy obeyed. She held the barrel in her hand, the butt toward Daniel. In the stillness of the woods there was only the muffled sounds of the wagon wheels and the horses’ hooves. It was dark and cool. There was an eerie stillness. Mercy set her eyes on the farthest point of the trail and kept them there, watching for any movement. The trees had closed in on them, the branches meshing into a canopy overhead. There was no undergrowth of brush beneath the thick foliage, but the ground was padded with years of dried leaves. The tree trunks were so close together, you could see no more than ten feet into the forest on either side of the trail, which was so narrow that two wagons could scarcely pass each other.

  The sound of a running horse coming toward them was sudden. Daniel hauled up on the reins, bringing Zelda to a halt so quickly that her front feet left the ground and she edged toward the trees. Daniel wrapped the reins about the brake and quickly pushed a protesting Mercy down on the floor between the seat and the footboard.

  “Get under the seat,” he hissed when she attempted to raise her head. He leapt over the seat and into the wagon bed. From behind the seat he watched the trail, his rifle, and the pistol he had jerked from Mercy’s lap beside him, in his hands.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know. Stay there. No matter what I do, stay there!” he ordered sharply.

  The sound of the pounding hoofbeats became louder. The horse was traveling fast. Daniel watched the bend in the trail ahead. The horse, when it burst into view, was riderless. The stirrups of the saddle on its back flopped against its heaving sides as it ran at full speed. With head up, eyes rolling, and wet with sweat, the horse thundered toward them. Frightened, Zelda whinnied and danced sideways. The buckskin tied behind the wagon jerked on the lead rope, rocking the wagon, and kicked out behind him. The big gray came on at breakneck speed, then swerved around the wagon and raced on down the trail.

  Daniel waited for a full five minutes, watching ahead and behind. It was quiet after the sound of pounding hooves were swallowed by their distance. He stood up, and Mercy crawled out from under the seat.

  “Who was it? I couldn’t see.”

  “A riderless horse. Someone must have scared hell out of it.” He handed her the pistol. “A snake or a bear could have caused it to bolt and throw the rider.”

  “A bear?”

  Daniel grinned and said lightly, to ease her fear, “Don’t worry, I’m a good shot.” He placed the rifle across his lap and shook the reins to get Zelda moving.

  “My goodness, but that was exciting.” Mercy adjusted her shawl and looked at Daniel. The intense look on his face caused her heart to make a frantic leap. She bit her lips and said nothing. It would be time enough to know what he was thinking when they were out in the open again.

  They passed through the dense, dark forest and into one that was lush and green and allowed scattered patches of sunlight through. Alongside the trail was a thick grove of stately pines, and beneath the branches was an abundance of ferns and wildflowers. Mercy heard the plaintive call of the mourning dove and the happier sound of a bobolink. Another time she would have enjoyed this beautiful place, but now, knowing that Daniel was tense and alert, she wanted only to hurry through it to the open stretches beyond.

  When they finally came out into the full sunlight, she let out a long sigh. A warm breeze drifted over them, bringing a scent of the river ahead. They turned at the same time to look at each other.

  “I’m glad to be out of there,” Mercy admitted. “Where do you suppose the horse came from?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s anything for us to worry about.”

  The tracks of the two horses were still on the trail ahead of them. Daniel had seen where the running horse had come out of the woods. He doubted, now, that the two riding ahead of them had any interest in what was coming along behind. They were probably just two travelers going to Evansville, as they were.

  Daniel, however, was relieved when they rounded a bend and went down the trail toward the Ohio River and the ferry that would take them across the river. Somewhere along the way amid a growing number of tracks, he lost the prints of the horses and forgot about them.

  While they waited for the ferry at the landing Mercy got down and walked back and forth to ease her aching muscles. Daniel watered the horses and hung the feed bags over their heads. It had been a long morning for the horses and for them.

  Evansville, when they reached it, was a bustling river town of several thousand inhabitants. Twelve years ago, in 1818, it was made the county seat of Vanderburg County. The first session of circuit court was held in the home of one of the town founders. At that time the town was only a cluster of log cabins. Now the seat of government was housed in a two-storied brick courthouse, set in the middle of the town square.

  Daniel drove down a street lined with shops fronted by a boardwalk. Freight wagons, buggies, carts and horsemen clogged the street, but Daniel skillfully guided Zelda through the traffic to a framed and painted building at the end of the street. He stopped in front. A small Negro boy jumped off the porch with a huge smile on his face.

  “I watch yo’ wagon, sah.”

  “All righ
t.” Daniel smiled and rubbed his knuckles over the woolly head. “I’ll take the lady inside and I’ll be back.” With his hands at her waist, he swung Mercy down to the boardwalk.

  “Is this where we’ll stay?” Mercy glanced at the open door and beyond to a carpeted floor. “It looks nice.”

  “It’s the best the town has to offer.” Daniel took her elbow and escorted her inside. He set the carpetbag down, left her, and went to the counter.

  “Welcome, sir. Are you needing lodging?”

  “The best room you have.”

  “Yes, sir. Sign here please.” Long, slender hands that looked as if they had never done a day’s work turned the open register toward Daniel. The young man’s dark eyes went from Mercy to Daniel and back. Ooo, la, la, to have such a wife, he thought, or a mistress. He revised his thoughts to wife when he looked at the neat script on the register—Daniel Phelps and wife. He adjusted the lace at his cuffs. Oh, well, some men were born lucky, even this rough, crudely dressed one.

  “My wife will want a bath.”

  “It will be extra.”

  “No matter.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll see to it at once. You will be in Room Two, directly above.” He took a key from a board on the wall behind him and placed it on the counter.

  “Meals?” Daniel asked, picking up the key.

  “We start serving at six o’clock—in the dining room.”

  Daniel turned away. He didn’t like the way the man eyed Mercy, but as long as the young popinjay kept his thoughts to himself, he’d tolerate him. He picked up Mercy’s bag, cupped her elbow with his hand, and led her up the stairs.

  The first thing Mercy saw when Daniel opened the door and she entered the room was a big, high, four-poster bed with two plump pillows. A washstand with china pitcher and bowl stood against one wall. Beside it on the floor was a blue-flowered chamber pot. A bureau, with a straight-backed chair beside it, stood against the other wall. A square of carpet lay on the floor beside the bed. The room was small, and when she turned, she came up against Daniel’s tall, hard body. Her skin began to tingle. This was their wedding night. They would be together in that soft bed!

  “They’ll bring up a bath.” Daniel’s voice was raspy. He set her carpetbag down, and they came together, wrapping their arms about each other. “I’ll go find a livery while you take your bath.” His lips moved against her ear.

  “Kiss me before you go.”

  “I’ve been wanting to for hours.”

  His brown fingers lifted her chin and his eyes searched hers. He lowered his head and kissed her softly, reverently. There was no haste in it. She kissed him back hungrily, her lips moving beneath his. A slow fire began to seep upward from his toes, and he turned his lips toward her cheek. His arms loosened and his hands came up to cup her head. A rap on the door caused him to step away from her.

  Daniel opened the door to a maid with a tin hip bath and a burly man with huge buckets of water hanging from each arm. The maid placed the tub in the corner of the room, and the man emptied the water into it and went out.

  “I vill bring the kettle ta hot the vater.” The maid, a plump German girl, placed towels on the chair, curtsied in an old-world manner, and left the room.

  Mercy opened her carpetbag and searched for her soap.

  “I didn’t think they’d bring it so soon.”

  “I’ll wait until she comes with the hot water. After I go, I want you to bar the door.”

  The maid returned with the kettle of boiling hot water and poured it in the tub, trailed her fingers through the water, then nodded approvingly to Mercy and went out.

  “Enjoy your bath, honey. I’ll be back in about an hour, and we’ll go down to the dining room.”

  “I’ll be ready.” She looked into his quiet face, and her eyes mirrored the love in her heart.

  “If you look at me like that, sweetheart, I’ll not go.”

  She moved close to him, snuggling in his arms, and held her lips up for his kiss.

  He kissed her quickly. “If I don’t leave now, I’ll not go, and your bath will get cold.”

  “Then I’ll bathe in cold water,” she said against his lips before she pulled away from him. “You’re the dearest man in the world,” she declared.

  “Of course.” His eyes teased her. “I’m dear, I’m handsome, I’m kind, and . . . I’m leaving.” He laughed and his dark eyes glowed warmly, the creases in his cheeks making arcs around his smiling lips. “Drop the bar,” he said before he closed the door.

  Mercy felt a sudden, delicious rush of joy. This was her wedding night, and she was totally, completely, utterly in love with her husband.

  It was purely wonderful to sink into the bath of warm water, but Mercy didn’t linger. There was too much to do before Daniel came back. After her bath she laid the blue dress out on the bed and ran a damp cloth down the skirt to help rid it of wrinkles. While it was drying, she put on her last set of clean underclothes and brushed her hair vigorously. After she was dressed, she made a coiled rope of her hair, wound it, fastened it to the top of her head, and then carefully pulled a few curls loose above her ears and at her temples.

  It was slightly more than an hour before Daniel returned to the inn. He had managed to accomplish a lot in that short time. After he had found a livery and arranged for the animals to be cared for, he had sought out a barber. Bathed, shaved, and in clean clothes, he’d had a short conversation with the barber, then headed for a merchant a few blocks down the street.

  Now, with his purchase tucked safely in his pocket, he rapped on the door of Room 2.

  “It’s me, Mercy.”

  Mercy opened the door and stepped back so he could come in. He closed the door behind him, leaned against it, and looked at her. They stood quietly, as if to absorb the presence of each other.

  “You had a bath too.” Her voice was weakened by the depth of her emotion.

  “Uh-huh. You’re so pretty! I want to kiss you, but I’m afraid I’ll mess your hair.” He tossed his hat on the bed.

  Laughter bubbled up. “We’re acting so shy, you’d think we didn’t know each other. Do you think we’ll ever get used to this new feeling? Oh, Daniel, I hope not!” She went to him, and her arms went around his neck. “It’s just so wonderful to be free to put my arms around you,” she whispered, pressing the full length of her body against his.

  He took her mouth in a hard, swift kiss. “I have something for my wife.”

  She leaned back and looked into his eyes. “For me?”

  “You’re the only wife I have, love.” His smile covered his face, making his eyes shine. The fingers of one hand closed over hers while with the other he delved into his pocket. She was still looking into his eyes when he slipped the ring on her finger. They both looked down at his big hand holding hers; the wide gold band had slipped easily over her knuckle and glinted there on her third finger.

  “Oh, Daniel! I had forgotten about a wedding ring!”

  “I hadn’t. I want the world to know you’re mine.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “I told the merchant to stay open. If it didn’t fit, we’d be back.”

  “We don’t have to. It’s perfect!” She held her hand up and twisted the ring around on her finger. “See. I’ll not lose it.”

  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Let’s go eat, honey,” he said, and draped her shawl about her shoulders.

  The maid was lingering outside the door when they opened it. “I come vor the tub,” she said, not looking at them.

  Daniel nodded, and he and Mercy went down the stairs and into the dining room. At the entrance he paused and looked the place over. There was a long communal table where several men sat eating, and two small tables. He led Mercy to the small table covered with a white cloth and seated her.

  The slick-haired young man who had been behind the counter when they arrived nodded to one of the serving women. She left the long table and hurried to the kitchen. The clerk wondered about
the big, broad-shouldered man named Daniel Phelps. Since leaving Boston to come to this uncivilized place, he had seen few men who moved with such ease and spoke with such quiet authority. Phelps had stopped on his way out that afternoon and demanded, not asked, that they be served crusted meat pie, fresh bread and butter, and peach cobbler. The clerk had opened his mouth to say the evening menu was planned but closed it and went to the kitchen immediately to order the cook to make the cobbler, the rest being already on the evening menu.

  Mercy’s shining eyes went from Daniel’s face to the ring on her finger. She looked around the dining room and wondered if everyone knew that this was their wedding night. She caught the dark-haired man looking at her and quickly turned away. He knew, or else he was curious about them.

  Mercy’s smile widened when the woman brought the hot, crusty meat pie and the fresh bread and butter.

  “Just this morning I was wishing for this.”

  “I remember.”

  “Peach cobbler too?” she exclaimed when the woman brought the dish, set it on the table, and moved away swiftly. “You asked for it!” she accused happily.

  “Yes.” He smiled into her eyes.

  They were not as hungry as they thought they would be, but they spent three quarters of an hour at the table.

  “I can hardly wait to get home, Daniel. Will we go right out to your farm? I’ll not spend another night away from you,” she warned.

  “It’ll depend on what time it is when we get to Quill’s Station. I suppose we’ll stay at the house. If we leave early and make good connections at the ferry, we could be home by dusk. If I think we can’t make it home, we’ll stop in the afternoon at New Harmony.”

  “I won’t mind the long day. I’ll be with you.”

  People passed and the lovers didn’t even look up. They had eyes only for each other. Light faded and lamps were lit. They finished eating and drank the hot, sweet tea.

  “Would you like to walk a bit?” Daniel asked when they’d left the dining room.

  “Would you?” She looked shyly up at him.