Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (36 page)

Daniel’s throat was so tight, he couldn’t speak. He swallowed with difficulty, closed his eyes, and leaned his open mouth against her cheek.

“Mercy, little Mercy,” he murmured, “you fill my life completely.” He kissed her, his lips demanding yet tender. His tongue deeply invaded the mouth that parted so eagerly, and grazed over pearl-white teeth. Her lips clung moistly to his. The kiss was long and deep and full of promised passion. She took his kiss thirstily. She wanted to stay there in his arms forever. His lips pulled away, but he drew her closer to him and chuckled softly.

“What are you laughing about?” she asked.

“I feel like I’m floating above the ground.”

“I feel like I’m hanging from a cloud.”

“I love you,” he said quietly.

“I love you too.”

A great wave of love and pride swept him; his heart beat with pure joy as his hands moved over her breasts lovingly, stroking, caressing. It was like a dream having her here in his arms, knowing she was his, from the top of her shining head to the soles of her feet—his to love and to care for. He adjusted her on his lap, pressed her head to his shoulder, and wrapped the blanket snuggly around her.

They sat quietly, listening to the music of the night and talking softly of the past, the future, the discovery of their love. After a while Mercy’s quiet, even breathing told him she was drifting off to sleep. Content to hold her, Daniel closed his eyes, and his mind filled with an indelible picture of golden hair and sky-blue eyes.

The voice of a wolf shattered the stillness and startled Mercy from sleep.

Daniel smiled against her forehead and whispered, “Go back to sleep. It’s just that old wolf calling his mate.”

“If she has any brains at all, she’ll go looking for him,” she said sleepily, and curled her arm about his neck. “Crazy old she-wolf doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

“A
re you going to sleep all day?”

The husky velvet tone reached into Mercy’s sleep-drugged mind. She moved against the warm body holding her and slowly opened her eyes.

“Is it morning?”

“Almost.”

“I don’t want to move.” There was a seductive huskiness in her voice. She moved her hand across his chest and into the neck of his shirt. Her fingers stroked the skin over his collarbone. “Have you been holding me all night?”

“No. I left you lying here all by yourself,” he said, teasing.

“You didn’t.” She sat up so she could see his face. “Did you sleep at all?”

“A little.” He didn’t tell her that it was damned little, and that a few times he had laid her down, covered her, and circled their campsite. Neither did he tell her that once in the night he had heard hoofbeats, and at another time the peeper frogs along the creek bank had stopped their cadence, disturbed by something they didn’t understand, and he had knelt over her, his rifle ready, until the frogs started up again.

“Did I dream that you said you loved me and wanted us to stay married?” she whispered drowsily.

“No, love. You didn’t dream it.” His hands moved up to frame her face, and he pulled it to his and placed a tender kiss on her lips. His fingers then moved into the hair next to her scalp. “I like to see you with your hair all messed up.”

Her hands moved up to his. “Did I lose my hairpins?”

“If you did, I’ll buy you some more when we get to Evansville. As soon as it’s daylight, I’ll build a fire. You can have that cup of tea this morning.”

“Let’s stay here a few more minutes.” She burrowed her face in the warm flesh of his neck. “I love this place, I love this tree, I love you. Oh, Daniel, I’m as happy as a dog with two tails!”

“And too lazy to wag either of them,” he said with a chuckle, and blew the strands of her hair from his lips.

She licked his neck with her tongue, then fastened her lips to the spot and began to suck vigorously. His fingers found her ribs, and their laughter mingled. They were like excited children. Everything was new and wonderful.

“Don’t! Don’t! I’m too full. I’ve got to—Oh, Daniel, don’t. You know I can’t stand to be tickled.” Her eyes sparkled at him through thick lashes.

“Kiss me and I’ll stop.”

It was fully daylight before they picked up the blankets and went back to the wagon. Daniel put the pistol on the wagon seat, within reach of her hand.

“Stay here and let me look around, and then you can go down to the creek and wash up.”

Mercy’s eyes followed his tall, lean-limbed figure as he walked away from her. When he walked, his feet hit the ground lightly. He didn’t lumber along as her brothers did. He carried the rifle with the stock under his armpit, his hand on the trigger, as he had been taught by Uncle Juicy a long time ago. The old mountain man who had raised Farrway Quill would be proud of Daniel, she thought suddenly, and smiled.

It was so wonderful to be with him, to know that he was hers. No other woman would ever know the feel of his arms or the gentle touch of his lips. Mercy was adrift in a sea of happiness.

When Daniel returned, he told her that there was no great hurry for them to leave. They would be at the river in the middle of the afternoon, and in Evansville a short time later. They sat by the small fire, drank tea, and ate bread and ham again.

“I’ll not want ham for supper tonight,” Mercy said firmly. Her eyes traveled lovingly over Daniel’s face, and her smile was one of girlish sweetness.

“I’ll not want it for a week, if ever.” Daniel was hardly aware of what he was saying. He found such joy and exquisite pleasure in being with her, watching her radiant face, he could have been eating a leather boot.

“I’d like a nice crusty meat pie, fresh bread and butter, peach cobbler with cream—”

“Is that all, Mrs. Phelps?” The very realness of her happiness was a miracle of ever-expanding proportions.

“No, husband, I want a bath!” The laughing words gushed out of her mouth.

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.