Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (14 page)

“What’s he saying?” she asked after a fearful look over her shoulder.

“He sayin’ . . . yo is purty, purty, Missy. He don’t mean no harm. He donno no better.”

“I know that. He’s so big! I guess I was still thinking of him as a little boy. The last time I saw him he was not as tall as you, Jeems.”

“Yass’m. He growed some.”

“I’m sorry if I got him stirred up.”

“He don’t see nobody much a-tall. When he do, he get all stirred ’n’ he talk, talk, talk.”

“I don’t know how you handle him.”

“It do be gettin’ hard, Missy. Mistah Dan, he say he help make a pen ta hold him.”

“Oh, Jeems. I’m sorry it’s come to that.”

“But he alive, Missy. ’N’ he my boy.” Jeems’ seamed face broke into a smile.

“I came to tell you to take the milk in the springhouse and a slab of bacon. When you gather the eggs, take them too. There’s more than we can use.”

“Gerrit like dat clabber milk mighty fine. Thanky, Missy.”

“I’ll be all right now,” Mercy said when they reached the shallow creek. “Be careful, Jeems.”

“I do dat, Missy.” Jeems bobbed his head before he turned back.

Blackbird came from the barn and sat waiting for Mercy. The cat meowed and walked over to rub against her legs. He looked up at her with his slanting eyes and meowed again. She reached down and stroked his humped back.

“You look as if you’re getting enough to eat.”

“Meow!”

“Someone has been giving you milk too,” she said, glancing at the pan beside the barn door. “You’ve got it pretty good here, Blackbird.”

On her way to the kitchen door the words were repeated in her mind.
You’ve got it pretty good here, too, Mercy.
She took off her shawl and hung it on the peg beside the door. The kitchen was warm and pleasant. The aroma of cooked chicken mingled with the smell of the cinnamon she had put in the dried apple pie she had baked that morning.

Did Mrs. Baxter—she couldn’t call her Mother, even in her thoughts—have someone to make chicken and dumplings for her? Did the wife of one of her sons take care of her? The questions tormented Mercy. Had the woman loved her as Jeems loved his demented child? Or as Dovie loved her baby? Everything she said, everything she did, seemed to Mercy to take on a new meaning. She clamped her hands over her ears and stood in the middle of the floor shaking her head.

Daniel said to decide by suppertime if she was going to Kentucky. Either way, he said, he had arrangements to make. Daniel, dear Daniel, was willing to leave his farm, his mill, leave his commitment to Levi Coffin to others to carry on while he was away. He would do all of this in order to go with her to Kentucky to visit the family of her birth.

She sank down into the rocking chair beside the kitchen stove. It was so odd to be sitting there, thinking about whether or not to go to see her
real
mother. It occurred to her that Mrs. Baxter would tell her her
real
birthdate. She had always celebrated the day Farrway Quill had found her as her birthday. Mercy rocked gently, her hands palms up, lying in her lap. She was remembering how welcome the Quills had made her feel, and how lovely her childhood had been with them and Daniel.

She leaned forward and looked through the window. There were shadows now where a short time before there had been sunlight. The sun had gone down, and soon she would see Daniel’s tall, familiar form coming up the path to the house.

Mercy sat rocking, her hands holding on to each other. She had been fortunate to have been found by Farrway Quill. It was a wonderful thing to have been brought up in a family where goodness, honesty, and respect were important. The feelings inside Mercy stirred, unfolded, and were clear.

She knew what she was going to do.

*   *   *

There was a light in the window to greet Daniel when he came up the path. He called a greeting as soon as he opened the door, then came to stand in the kitchen doorway, his dark head almost reaching the top, his eyes on her face. There was a half smile on her lips when she turned to look at him. Her brow was smooth, her eyes no longer worried. Daniel knew immediately that she had made a decision and would tell him when she was ready. He shed his short leather coat and hung it on a peg beside the back door.

“Something smells good.”

“Something? You know what it is. There’s a lot of it, too, so you’d better be hungry.”

“I am. I’ll wash up.”

Mercy carried the teakettle to the washstand beside the door and poured hot water into the basin. Daniel followed and ladled in a few dipperfuls of cold water from the water bucket.

“Thanks,” he said as he took the soap from the china soap dish. “Hot water and apple pie, what more could a man ask for?”

“How do you know it’s apple?” she quirked an eyebrow with her question.

“I can smell the cinnamon.”

“It’s pumpkin.”

“It’s apple. The pumpkins are all gone.” A grin danced about his mouth.

They both knew they were making idle conversation to prolong the time when they must discuss what was really on both their minds.

Mercy dished up the meal while he washed. He watched her in the small mirror above the washstand. Neat and slender, her golden hair piled on top of her head, she seemed to float rather than walk. She moved from stove to table and back again to pour water over the tea in the pitcher, placing a plate on top of it so the tea would steep. This was what he wanted to come home to every night for the rest of his life—a warm kitchen and this sweet woman waiting for him.

Daniel took the comb from the comb case that hung beside the mirror, dipped it into the water in the washdish, and ran it through his hair. A stubborn lock refused to obey the comb and fell forward on his brow. He gave it several licks with the comb, then gave up and dropped the comb back into the case.

“You need a haircut,” Mercy said when he came to the table.

“It’s too damn short as it is. I took my knife to it, and now it won’t stay back.”

“I’ll cut it for you after supper, or you’ll have to braid it in the back.”

Mercy took her place at the table, and Daniel sat down opposite her. He reached for the lamp on the table between them, moving it to one side so that he could see her. Tenderness was in the eyes that looked at her, but she didn’t notice. Her eyes were on her plate.

“Do you mind if I say the blessing?” she asked quietly, and lifted her eyes to his. Her look of deep anxiety erased all other matters from his mind as he resolutely kept his eyes on her face.

He nodded.

Mercy clasped her hands together on the edge of the table and bowed her head.

“Lord, I want to thank thee for bringing me to this place. I want to thank thee for letting me be a part of this family, who clothed and fed me, who cared for me when I was sick, who saw to my education, and who taught me love and respect. Thank thee for Farrway Quill, who in every way has been like a father to me. Thank thee for Liberty Quill; no young girl ever had a more loving and understanding mother. And thank thee, especially, for Daniel. He is so much a part of my life, I cannot imagine life without him. Bless him and keep him safe as we journey to Kentucky. Amen.”

Her voice shook at the last, and tears were in her eyes when she raised her lashes to look at him. Yet, now her eyes still did not look unhappy. She seemed quite peaceful and resigned, but there was a certain tenseness in her manner as she watched him to see how he reacted to her decision to go visit the family that claimed she was one of them.

“May I eat now?” he asked, reaching for the bowl of tender chicken and big fluffy dumplings. His face gave away nothing at all, but he was feeling elation, not only because she had mentioned him in her prayer but because he had been right about what she would do.

“I put a speck of sage in the dumplings, the way you like them.”

“I see you did. I’m surprised you remembered.” He forked a piece of chicken out of the broth and put it on his plate. “You’ve had a busy day.”

“I walked down to the where Jeems lives . . .”

Daniel’s hand, reaching for the bread plate, paused in midair. “And?”

“I shouldn’t have gone. I didn’t realize Gerrit was so big, and so violent.”

“You didn’t get close to him?”

“No, but he saw me and got excited.”

“I’m worried he’ll hurt Jeems.” Daniel dipped into the butter bowl with his knife while still looking at her. “As soon as we get back from Kentucky, George and I will go down there to build something for him to keep Gerrit in. He’s big and he’s as strong as a bull. I hate to think of what will happen if he outlives Jeems.”

“Jeems is such a kind man. He lives to take care of Gerrit. It would break his heart if anything happened to his son.”

Mercy worried the dumpling around on her plate with her fork and took a small bite now and then. Daniel emptied his plate and helped himself to more. They didn’t speak again until after Mercy poured the tea.

“What did George have to say about Hammond Perry?” she asked. “I hope he doesn’t do anything foolish and let himself get caught down by the state line. Papa has warned him about that.”

“I’ve warned him too. He followed Perry across the river and trailed him until he was well on his way to Newport. Levi Coffin hoped to throw Perry off Turley’s trail, and he did. He’s a sly fox.”

“He must be an awfully good man to take the chances he does. Does Papa know what you and Turley do?”

“We’ve talked about it.”

“I thought of Mamma when I was with Dovie and her baby. She would approve, although she would be worried if she knew Hammond Perry had been here.”

“We won’t worry her with it now. We’ll tell her about it when they come home at Christmas.”

“I wish she knew I was going to Kentucky, and why.”

Mercy’s large blue eyes were more beautiful than ever—more brilliant with the moistness of tears she refused to acknowledge. Daniel’s eyes moved to her mouth, sweet and young and vulnerable. Absently a part of his mind noted that during the last few days she had changed. Her face now had the look of a serious young woman rather than that of a carefree girl. She seemed paler, her eyes a deeper blue. He enjoyed the sight of her lovely face in the glow of the lamp.

“I’ve made the arrangements necessary to be away for a while. We can leave at dawn.”

“Were you so sure I would go?”

He looked at her across the table, his dark eyes earnest, warm, and caressing on her face.

“You forget, Mercy, that I’ve known you for a long time. I may know you even better than you know yourself. I was almost a hundred percent sure that I knew what you would do.”

“I wouldn’t even have considered going if you had not offered to go with me.”

“I know that too.”

“Daniel, I feel so guilty taking you away from the mill and the farm. Spring is a busy time. Are you sure you can spare the time?”

Can I spare the time
? Good Lord, he thought, she had no idea what she meant to him. The farm, the mill, even his desire to help Levi Coffin, were all as nothing compared to his desire to be with her, keep her safe, bring her back here, where she belonged—with him. These thoughts went through his mind, but when he spoke, it was casually.

“Oh, yes. I can spare the time. Jasper and Gus know what to do at the farm. They’ll get advice from Mike if something comes up. Turley and George can run the mill as well as I can, and Gavin will be back in a day or two.”

“I wonder what Eleanor and Tennessee will think. I wish I could see them before I go.”

“They’ll be here when we get back.”

Mercy stared wide-eyed into the corner of the room. Things will never be the same again, she thought. She would never sit at this table as Mercy Quill. How did she know this? Her hand crawled across the table toward Daniel’s as if to hold on to the past. He placed his knife across the edge of his plate, met her hand in the middle of the table, and covered it with his. He looked at her searchingly; she met his eyes earnestly, with a kind of pleading for understanding.

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing? A part of me doesn’t want to know any more about the Baxters than I know already. The other part wants to see
her
and let her know I’ve had a happy life.”

“If you don’t go see her, you may regret it later. And you’d wonder about the rest of them, thinking that someday they might show up here again.”

“I know you’re right. I’ve got to face up to what I am, don’t I?”

“Dammit, Mercy! You’re what you are, regardless of what
they
are. They could be the scum of the earth, and it wouldn’t make you any different!”

“How long will it take us to get there?” she asked with torturous slowness.

“Three, maybe four days. We’ll take the road wagon Farr bought when you were going to the Jefferson Academy in Vincennes. It will take a little longer, but it will be more comfortable.”

“I could ride. A couple of dresses and heavy shoes are about all I’ll need.”

“Pack what you want. We’ll take the wagon. Farr would insist on it. I’m sure we’ll be able to find places to stay along the way.”

“What if they won’t let me . . . come back?” She turned her palm up and laced her fingers between his.

“They’ll not have anything to say about it!” He gripped her hand tightly. “You’re going for a visit and that’s all.” Then, in a voice that was more commanding than appealing, “You’re not to worry about that.”

“I can’t help thinking about them. I wonder if all the Baxters are as strange as Bernie and Lenny. They acted as if they owned me.”

“They’re strange compared to the way we were brought up. I’ve heard that the hill families down there have peculiar ways. They are close-knit, clannish as hell, and keep to themselves. But they don’t
own
you or have any claim to you other than what you want to give them.”

“Daniel, you’re so levelheaded,” she said with a wistful smile. “You make things sound so reasonable. Sometimes I wonder why you put up with me.”

God in heaven,
he thought.
It’s because I love you, have always loved you.
He couldn’t say the words; this was not the time; so he slipped his hand from hers and said, “Eat your supper. It’s getting cold.”