Dorothy Garlock (14 page)

The tall, beautiful woman had come to stay. She was sure of that despite what she’d just said. She’d brought her rocking chair and in the evening, when the work was done, she’d sit in it beside this fireplace. This would be her house, the foodstuffs in the cellar would be her doing. She would decide if they would eat the smoked turkey or a cut from the side of venison that hung in the smokehouse. Would she rearrange the pots on the shelves and take down the bundles of dried onions and peppers Callie had tied to the rafters?

“Callie?”

Jarred from her thoughts, she turned quickly, guiltily; her glance taking in the serious look on Jefferson’s face. She went to the bearskin rug, loosened the harness that kept the baby from crawling toward the fireplace, and lifted him to her hip. Somehow the warm, little body of a child was a comfort when something unpleasant was about to happen.

“Callie?” Jeff said again. “Are you feeling better?”

“It was just a cold in my chest, Jefferson. It wasn’t nothin’ a dab of coal oil and goose grease couldn’t cure.” With one hand she laced the baby’s mush with molasses from a crock. “I’ve been a feedin’ Abe in the middle of the mornin’ and he’ll sleep through the noonin’. Amos will be in, if he can bring himself to let Will be. I’ll swan, Jefferson, that child thinks Will is as grand as a shiny new dollar.” Words came out in a nervous little rush without her even thinking about them.

Jeff smiled, so she smiled at him, picked up the spoon, and managed to get the first bite into Abe’s mouth without spilling it down the front of him. Jeff filled a mug with tea and sat down across from her.
Now he’d tell her that he wanted his home for the woman, that he’d send her and the boys to Jason. He’d tell her that he found him in Saint Louis or Natchez. He’d say that they were Jason’s responsibility, not his.
The thoughts raced through Callie’s mind as she steeled herself for what she was sure he was going to say.

“I was hoping that you and Annie Lash would take to each other, Callie. It would make it more pleasant for you, and for her if you did.”

“Are you going to marry her, Jefferson?” Callie kept spooning the mush into her son’s little mouth, grateful for the chore so she didn’t have to look at him.

“I asked her, but she turned me down.”

She looked at him with astonishment on her face. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t making a funny joke.

“Why, Jefferson? Landsakes! Why in the world would she turn you down?”

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “She’s proud. Real proud. She won’t wed in order to have a roof over her head. She’ll work to pay for her keep or she won’t stay. I gave my solemn promise that I’d look after her. I’d have done it anyway, Callie. She was like a daughter to that old man and I owed him my life. You can ask Will. He’ll tell you that Zan Thatcher saved our hides more than once.”

“You want her to stay here and . . . take care of the house?”

“You’re working yourself down to skin and bones. I thought she’d be a help to you.”

“Then . . . you don’t want me to . . . go?” She was about to cry.

“Want you to go? Whatever gave you that idea? Of course I don’t want you to go,” he ground out. “You and the boys are my family.”

“Well . . . I thought that maybe you’d found Jason and—”

“I’ve no intention of looking for Jason unless you want me to find him, Callie. Do you want him to come back?”

“No, Jefferson,” she said smoothly. “Jason don’t want me and the boys. You know that. I’d just as soon never set eyes on him again, even if he is my boys’ pa. But I’ve got pride, too. I’ve got to feel that I’m some help to you. I’ve got to pay back just a mite for all you’ve done—”

“You’ve more than earned your keep. You’ve held this place together, Callie. When I came back and found Jason gone, I thought he’d met with an accident and was killed. I refused to believe he would leave his pregnant wife and child out here alone with no one to take care of her but two black men. He’s in Natchez, Callie. I could have gone downriver and found him, made him come back to you, but I figured you and the boys were better off without him.”

“I hope he never comes back. He didn’t want to marry me. Pa and the boys made him. I hadn’t been . . . with him, but they thought I had.” Her eyes filled. “We were so poor, and Jason was from landed gentry. They thought they were doing good by me.”

“I know.” Jeff said, then after a pause, “Annie Lash was living on the Bank in Saint Louis among the rivermen, the trappers and toughs. When her pa died all the loose men from miles around were after her like dogs after a bone. The only man she had to protect her was old Zan Thatcher. He wouldn’t have been able to hold out a week longer against the toughs from the taverns and the docks. He told me so. He would have ended up floating downriver with a pike in his back.” For a moment Jeff was silent. “Instead, we’ll bury him in the woods. My God, Callie. I’ll hate it until my dying day that he died the way he did!” He spoke in a tone of deepest regret, looked away from her and out the open doorway toward the western sky. “The woman’s got spunk. She shot a man to save my life. That’s another reason I must do everything I can for her.”

He stood and went to the mantel, rummaged, found a pipe and filled it. From the woodbox he took a splinter of wood and held it to the flames, then to the tobacco and sucked on the pipe.

“Annie Lash is a name I’ve not heard before,” Callie said when he sat down again.

“When Will and I first met up with Zan on the Trace, some of his trail mates called him Lash because he was tall and whiplash thin. It was a name he said was tacked on to him when he was a boy in Virginia. I’d not heard it since, until I met Annie Lash. I was going to ask Zan about it, but it never came right. Now it’s too late.”

“Mama! The woman’s sleepin’ on the bench. I looked at ’er.” A small, barefoot boy ran in from the door leading to the dogtrot. He came directly to the table and grabbed the arm Callie was using to feed the baby.

“Oh, flitter, Amos! You’ve made me spill the mush! And don’t talk so loud, I’m not deaf. Not yet, anyways.”

“Uncle Jeff, Will’s ’bout done with the box, ’n Henry ’n Jute’s gone to dig a big hole. I wanted to go, but Will said I’d fall in, but I wouldn’t a! I ain’t gonna fall in no buryin’ hole!”

The boy’s small face was beautiful. The hair that curled loosely about his head was cotton-white. He could have been a miniature of his uncle except for the large green eyes that now sparkled with excitement. The sadness of death had no meaning for him. He was excited by the unusual and interesting things that had happened. A strange woman was asleep on the bench on the porch, Will was building a box for the dead man in the wagon under the lean-to, and Henry and his boy, Jute, had gone to the wood, singing a moaning song. To Amos, this day was like fair day to a town child and he could scarcely contain his excitement. Now, he spied the second bowl of mush cooling on the workbench.

“You can have it, but bring it here to me and I’ll syrup it,” Callie said. She looked up to see the fondness on Jefferson’s face when he looked at her son. Both he and Will were patient and understanding with Amos, far more so than his own father had been. Jason had thought of his children as an added burden to tie him down.

Amos halfsat, halfstood, and spooned the mush into his mouth as rapidly as he could bring the spoon from the bowl to his face. He had things to do. He was determined not to miss out on a single happening on this momentous day.

Jeff watched him with an amused smile. He hoped and prayed the boy would be as different from his father in actions as he was in looks. He looked at the child’s square, blunt little hands and thought of Jason’s long slender fingers manipulating a deck of cards.

“What’s ’er name, Uncle Jeff? Do ya think she’d care if I’d rock in her chair?”

“Her name is Annie Lash, and I don’t think she’d mind at all if you sat in her chair.” Jeff reached out a hand and rumpled the child’s hair, looked up at the man coming in the door and grinned. “It seems like our hired hand had to pause and fill his stomach, Will.”

“Ya know, he don’t believe me a’tall when I tell him Dan’l Boone eats one time a day, an’ sparingly at that.” Will hung his hat on the peg and went to the washstand. He was not as tall nor as big as Jeff, but he was lean-hipped, with a deep-muscled chest and brawny forearms. His light brown hair hung straight and clean to his shoulders and matched the mustache that sprang from his upper lip. His eyes sought Callie when he turned, and Jeff caught the look.

“Godamighty, Jeff. I’d a shore liked to a visited with old Zan.” Will helped himself to tea and sat down on the bench across from Jeff. “He’d changed a mite since I seen him last. He looked pert near ninety years old.”

“He was right spry until he got the blade in his side,” Jeff said. “He held off dying until he got here and it aged him. That girl out there meant the world to him and he was determined to stay alive until he found out what kind of place she was coming to. I heard her telling him about it as we came up the lane.”

The dog began to bark and Amos raced for the door. In a second he was back. “It’s the Cornicks,” he shouted and was gone again.

“Silas said he and Biedy would be over for the burying,” Jeff explained. “Both Silas and Isaac took a liking to Zan.” He stood, leaving his empty tea mug on the table, and knocked the ashes from his pipe into the fireplace.

“Give me that youngun.” Will reached over and took the baby from Callie’s arms. “You go on out and meet the company. This one’s ’bout asleep anyhow.” He lifted the baby to his shoulder, careful to balance the sleepy head until it rested in the curve of his neck.

Callie’s face was flushed with color. She stood behind Will and rearranged some of the pins in her hair. Oh, flitter! she scolded herself. Why did she act like a skittish pony everytime Will Murdock came near? He was just being nice, same as he’d been all the time Jefferson was gone to Saint Louis. It wasn’t his fault she’d been so stupidly happy doing for him, and in the smallest part of her heart pretending that they were all a family living on their own homestead. She hurried out into the dogtrot and to the front of the house just as the wagon pulled up and stopped.

Amos’s shouting had awakened Annie Lash. She sat huddled on the bench, her shawl around her shoulders. Her dull eyes were circled with dark rings of fatigue and her face felt stiff, as if it would crack if she moved her mouth. She smoothed her dress and poked the hair on her neck back into place. Callie went past her to meet Biedy Cornick, to give her a little more time to arrange herself.

Biedy got down from the wagon talking nonstop. “My, my, my! What a bright, fine day it is! Is he dead yet?” she whispered to Callie. Callie nodded and Biedy threw her hands up. “Whar’s that poor girl at?” She made small clicking sounds with her tongue. “I’ll swan to goodness if she didn’t look like she’d been dragged inside out through a knothole! Now, ya ain’t to be afrettin’ ’bout feedin’ us, Callie. I brought fried pie and a hunk a deer meat. I tol’ you, didn’t I, ’bout Lester shootin’ them wild hogs? Meat’s stringy less’n you put it in a pit. I tried to roast some, but, my land, it was tougher than boot leather. Boys drew straws again. Walter got the short end and had to stay behind. He’s all up in the air, madder than a flitter he was . . . said he’d made Amos a reed whistle, said Lester cheated. Silas had to put a hush on ’em. Silas brought his hymn book. He’ll say a piece over that poor soul, that’s if it’s what Jefferson wants.”

Annie Lash waited beside the bench. She was groggy from her short, deep sleep. Biedy swooped down on her as if she had known her forever, folded her in her arms, and hugged her to her thin frame. The expression of sympathy from this birdlike woman was almost her undoing. The well of tears she thought had dried up threatened to overflow, but she held them back and returned the hug.

“You poor thing!” Biedy crooned. “I know yore jist wore out. Hit ain’t easy what you done. Isaac tol’ me how spunky you be and all. Now, Callie and me’ll look after you. You’ll be jist back on yore feet in no time a’tall.”

“Thank you.” Annie Lash looked over the woman’s shoulder at Callie. Was that a warmer look she saw in her eyes?

“Light brought your trunk in while you were sleeping,” Callie said shyly. “If you want to clean up a bit, I’ll bring you a washbasin.”

“I’d like that.” Annie Lash looked down at her soiled, wrinkled dress with distaste. “It seems like I’ve worn this dress forever.” She turned to see Jeff looking at her. His dark eyes met hers, and his head moved almost imperceptibly in greeting. It was she who looked away first.

*  *  *

The group that walked behind the wagon taking Zan to his final resting place was larger than it would have been if he had been buried in Saint Louis where he had spent the last few years. Eleven adults and two children; a sizable crowd, Annie Lash thought as she watched Jeff and Will with the help of the two black men lower the box into the grave. Her face was tired looking and white, and her lips were tightly crimped. She held her grief inside of her, not wishing the comfort of tears, but hurting with a kind of knotted sadness that wouldn’t come loose. She had looked at Zan before Will closed the box and smoothed his sparse hair the best she could. A spasm of pain crossed her face; the only thing that betrayed her feelings.

The women walked away after the grave was filled. Annie Lash looked back once and saw the men carrying heavy rocks to pile on the soft, black earth. She knew it was so that wolves or some other wild animal wouldn’t get curious and dig.

She felt a small hand work its way into hers and looked down to see an impish face grinning up at her. This was life. Zan was gone. Her ma and pa were gone. But life still went on.

“We’d be pleased to have you come,” Silas said. He was waiting to help Biedy into the wagon.

“She knows we’d be plum tickled, Silas. Come visit, Annie Lash, come ’n stay a spell, that’s if’n Callie’ll let go of ya. My, my, my, yore mouths will go like a couple of bluejays once ya get the newness wore off. Callie ’n me’ve jawed fer hours. I reckon that girl’s heard ever’ tale I ever knowed a dozen times over! I got me somebody new to listen, Callie!” Biedy laughed, and the sound was so utterly pleasant it seemed impossible to Annie Lash that it came from the mouth of this plain woman.