Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (47 page)

“We’re a battered pair, Danny. I find new sore spots all the time, and you—That slimy little toad that hired someone to shoot you is dead. I’m glad Gerrit killed him!”

“We’re rid of him. Don’t talk about it. Talk about something pleasant.”

“Like our wedding night, the one we had in Evansville.”

“Our next wedding night will be in our own bedroom, in our own house, with our own door shut!”

“What’s wrong with this bedroom, this bed? The door is shut.” Her hand trailed down his chest, and her finger burrowed into his navel. His hand cupped her buttocks and pulled them tightly against him.

“I’m so hungry for you. I wish we could—” he whispered.

“I wish we could too.”

“I could turn on my side if you fixed the pillows for my leg. If I break it open, Tenny will have to stitch it again.”

Mercy jumped out of bed and went around to the other side. She carefully piled the pillows between his knees to keep his wounded leg off the bed. She hastily slipped off her nightgown and hurried back to snuggle against him.

“Ah . . . you feel so good. Oh, sweetheart, come here, come here. I want to touch you everywhere,” he murmured, running his free hand over her. “Don’t ever leave me, not for one day, one hour.”

“Hold me, Danny.”

“I’m going to hold you every night for the rest of our lives.”

He made love to her slowly, with melting tenderness and whispered erotic words that thrilled her. They were so intense in their pleasure of each other, the little stabs of pain they felt occasionally melted away like snow on a warm day. The entry he made was long, slow, and gentle; the plunges and withdrawals exquisitely tender. His lips traveled across her face; his hands teased her breasts.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he whispered.

The rain fell softly on the roof while they gently rode the crest of their passion to fulfillment, knowing that for now it was enough to be together, to be joined.

And then, totally exhausted, they slept in each other’s arms.

Quill’s Station on the Wabash River, as well as the characters in this story, are imaginary, with the exception of Levi Coffin and John Crenshaw.

Levi Coffin, abolitionist, known as the President of the Underground Railway, assisted thousands of runaway slaves on their flight to freedom. He lived in the area at the time and may have acted as I have portrayed him.

John Crenshaw built his mansion, Hickory Hill, in 1834. I took the liberty of moving the date forward five years in order to include him and his home in this story. After more than one hundred and fifty years, Hickory Hill, known as the Old Slave House, still stands overlooking the rolling Shawnee Hills in Southern Illinois.

In 1847, the Illinois lease system ended, and the salt wells were purchased by school trustees. Crenshaw farmed his land, and it is believed he continued his slave operation until the beginning of the Civil War. He died at Hickory Hill in 1875.

Uncle Bob, the Negro Crenshaw used to beget strong and healthy offspring, fought in the Civil War and died in 1940 at the age of 114. He was of African descent and is said to have fathered more than three hundred children.

I would very much like to thank Rita Farney, of Evansville, Indiana, for the material about Hickory Hill, the area along the Wabash River, and Evansville.
The Cavern of Crime,
by Judy Magee, and the history,
The Old Slave House,
provided by its present owner, Mr. George M. Sisk Jr. were most helpful.

For the readers who may be interested in the death crown mentioned in my story, the information came from my aunt, Orah Delle Colson, of Kingston, Oklahoma. She has in her possession a mysterious clump of feathers known as a death crown. It was found in her dead father’s pillow and is as I have described it in this book.

Dorothy Garlock

Dear Reader,

This is the last book of the Wabash River Trilogy. I hope my characters have given you a few hours of enjoyment, while allowing you a peek into the lives of our pioneer ancestors. While writing the books I became increasingly aware of the hardships endured by the people who colonized our country, and now have a greater appreciation for their stamina, courage, and perseverance.

The setting for my next book will be Southwest Wyoming in the year 1872. The story will be about an Irish colleen and the Irishman who loved her. She is an educated, refined young lady, and he a teamster who earns extra money bare-knuckle fighting. Look for
Midnight Blue
to be released in the summer of 1989.

Your letters are appreciated, your ideas recorded. In answer to the many of you who have asked for the other books—The Wabash Trilogy, the Colorado Trilogy, as well as
Annie Lash
and
Wild Sweet Wilderness
—write Warner Books, Box 690, New York, NY 10019.

My address is Warner Books, 666 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10103.

Until next time,

Dorothy Garlock