Dorothy Garlock (19 page)

“Come to Will, boy. If yore ma’s goin’ to be takin’ a stick to a body, it’s best ya get outta the way.”

Callie lifted her skirts and chased after Jute. Annie Lash stood in wide-eyed astonishment. Gales of laughter came from Will and Henry, who stomped his foot and shouted, “Get ’im, Miz Callie. Git dat boy ’n whack ’im!”

The realization suddenly came to Annie Lash that this was a game that had been played many times before. She laughed herself as she watched Callie, a switch in her hand, try to catch up with the young black man whose immense body dwarfed hers. She couldn’t have prevented the laughter to save her life. It welled up in such an overwhelming wave, she could hardly breathe. It spilled from her lips while her eyes sparkled like twin stars.

Jeff was frozen for a moment. The sound coming from Annie Lash seemed so strange. Then he was laughing with her. He’d not heard her laugh before, not this full voicing of amusement. He watched her face and couldn’t remember ever hearing such a beautiful sound, or seeing such utter delight on a woman’s face.

The game ended without Callie having caught the “culprit,” and she came back to them panting and smiling happily.

“I’m sending home a pot of turnips and fatback, Henry. Don’t let Jute have one drop!” Her teasing eyes looked back over her shoulder at the grinning young giant. “Well . . . maybe a cup.”

“Dat all he gonna’ git, Miz Callie. Dat all!” Henry promised.

Now Annie Lash looked closely at the black man. There was a kindness to his features, from his wide, thick-lipped mouth and large flat nose to his wide-set dark eyes. A few sprinklings of gray edged his temples, but his expression and physique gave proof that he was far from old.

She had watched the play with shock, then fascination, but also with the feeling of having taken part. She no longer felt shy, and reached to take the baby from Will’s arms before following Callie into the house.

Jeff’s eyes followed her until she was out of sight. He stood quietly, his rifle butt and Will’s resting on the ground.

“Mista Light comed to where I’s plantin’,” Jute said. “He tol’ me to say dem folks yaw’ll met up with on the river is squattin’ ter other side of Mista Silas. He say dem is downin’ trees, fixin’ to build.”

“Did he say if he was coming back tonight?”

“He say he a takin’ off down de river. Dere’s nothin’ ’twixt here’n yonder, he say.”

Jeff nodded gravely. “I had to tell Silas, after the attack on the trail, that the assassins were killers sent out by Burr to keep us from going back for the trial. He suspected that there was more to it than a killing for the goods on the wagons. He’ll watch out for strangers roaming around and will send one of the boys over if he thinks there’s reason.”

“Dere ain’t nothin’ comin’ on dis place less’n ol’ dog know hit.” Henry jerked his head toward a big, shaggy, dark-haired dog laying beside the shed, his large head rested on his crossed paws.

“That may be,” Jeff said dryly. “But that dog is as wild as a wolf. I’ve not been able to get close to him.”

“Ain’t nobody c’n but Jute,” Henry said. “Dat dog, he don’ need nobody.” The dog lifted and seated himself as if he knew he was being discussed. “He c’n smell Injin fer a mile, c’n heer a bird fly.”

Amos darted from behind Henry and headed for the shed.

“Amos!” Jeff barked. “Stay away from that dog!”

Amos’s short, stubby legs didn’t stop until he reached the dog, whose head was level with his own. He put his arms around the furry neck and leaned on him.

Jeff started toward them, but was stopped by Henry’s hand.

“Dat dog jump ya, Mista Jeff. Dat boy ’n Jute, dem is de ones. One time I seed de boy a layin’ by de dog. I comed wid de gun ’n de hair rared up ’n he growled. Dat child, he git up ’n hug up to dat wild beasty. ‘Hush yore mouth,’ he say, ’n dat dog, he quiet down ’n switch his tail. I ne’er seed such.”

“He won’t hurt me, Uncle Jeff.” Amos’s small arms circled the dog’s neck and his stubby legs straddled his back. “See? He likes me.”

The dog stood perfectly still, but his black eyes were alert for any movement from the men.

“Maybe he does, but I’d feel better if you came away from him,” Jeff said sternly. He glanced over at Will, who stood relaxed, his rifle cradled in his arms.

“Scared me crazy when I first saw it. Ain’t it the damnest thing ya ever saw?”

Callie came out carrying a black iron kettle, a rag wrapped around the handle. She set it on the ground beside Henry.

“The bail is hot. Don’t burn yourself.”

“Hit smells larrupin’, Miz Callie.”

“Keep your eye on that blackberry patch, Henry. Let me know as soon as the berries are ready and I’ll make you a cobbler.”

“Dat I do, Miz Callie. I sure do dat.”

“There’s a crock of buttermilk in the cellar. Take it when you go.”

“What about us? Don’t we got a cobbler?” Will demanded.

“Find the berries, same as Henry, and I’ll cook you one.” Her sparkling eyes met his in quick exchange and her face reddened under his devilish gaze. She turned and made for the house.

*  *  *

The first day of May came and went. Everyone at Berrywood worked from dawn to dark; Annie Lash and Callie were busy with cooking, washing, cleaning, and gardening; Will, Jeff, Henry, and Jute labored in the fields, planting the new orchard or felling trees for Will’s cabin.

Jeff made no attempt to speak with Annie Lash alone, but more than once she found his eyes on her before he turned abruptly away, and her heart would throb painfully.

Coaxed by Amos, Annie Lash inaugurated her bedtime custom of reading aloud from
Robinson Crusoe.
Jeff sat in his armchair, legs outstretched, and smoked. His eyes, dark and intent, seldom left her face. Callie rocked the baby and Will stayed in the shadows. When she finished a chapter, Annie Lash would close the book, stand, say good night, and go to the room across the dogtrot.

*  *  *

The days flew by.

May was warm and scented with blooms from the wild honeysuckle growing in thick profusion along the bank of the creek that passed through the pasture. Jeff had made sure, when he laid out the farm, that none of the runoff from the barnlots would reach the creek until after it passed the house. The spring-fed stream was swift, clear running, and cold every day of the year, according to Callie. Annie Lash found a spot where she could bathe and wash her hair. She longed to remove her clothes and plunge into the water, but she had to content herself with washing the lower part of her body under her skirts and the upper part while her bodice hung open. On these rare occasions, when her breasts were free from the confinements of her clothing, she would lift her arms above her head, stretch, and feel wonderfully free.

Jeff and Will announced one evening that the preliminary work on Will’s cabin was completed and in two days’ time they would be ready to raise the walls. It had taken the two men, with the help of Henry, almost a week to build a sled and haul the rocks up from the river to lay the foundation. Another week went into cutting and notching the trees; oak for the sills and walnut for the walls. Light, on one of his frequent visits, had been told to pass the word to the Cornicks.

The day before the cabin raising, Will brought in a giant turkey for the women to clean and bake, and Annie Lash made huckleberry pies for the feast in the middle of the day.

The Cornicks arrived just after daybreak. The wagon paused only long enough to let Silas lift Biedy down and set out a number of cloth-covered baskets. Annie Lash went out to help her carry in the food and to wave to the men who guided the team down the path toward the building site.

Biedy talked nonstop as usual. “Landsakes! Hit’s a grand day for a raisin’. Isaac got the short straw’n had to stay back. He said he might amble over to Gentrys’. That’s them folks that took up land the side a us. Hit’s brothers what married up with sisters. You know, you met ’em on the river. They put cabins side by side, but each is on hits own ground. They’re slouchy builders, so Silas says,” she said in an almost whisper, as if someone would hear her criticism. “That’s bread and fresh churned butter,” she jerked her head toward the basket Annie Lash was carrying. “This’ns dandelion greens, all washed and ready for the pot. Got mincemeat cake, too. I had to leave a sliver for Isaac. Silas’ll send one of the boys with the wagon afore nooning. I do love a cabin raisin’. We’d a helped them other folk, but they is still standoffish like. Where’s that baby? Where’s that little darlin’ that’s almost mine?”

“He’s still asleep, thank goodness.” Callie took the baskets from her hands, and Annie Lash took her shawl and bonnet and hung them beside the door.

“Stand right thar and let me look at you. She’s just as purty as I thought, Callie. And you, girl, you look fitter than a flitter. Hit’s the best I seen you look for a good spell. Hit was a cryin’ shame how you wore yourself out! Now, which one of them is courtin’ you, Annie Lash? Is it Jeff or Will? I swan to goodness, if’n there’s anything I like better’n a cabin raisin’, it’s a birthin’ or a weddin’. Last good’n we was at was when Berry married Simon Witcher. Oh, my! What a doin’s. Isaac fiddled and we sang and clogged till it was a shame. We’ll throw us a real doin’s when you get married up, Annie Lash.”

Amos came out of the bedroom rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with one hand and holding his wet gown away from his body with the other.

“Ma . . . I didn’t mean to.”

Callie went to him. “I know that. Let’s get you out of this.” She pushed him ahead of her through the door.

“You won’t tell Will?”

“Of course I won’t tell Will. Next time we’ll make sure you go outside just before you go to bed.”

“One of my boys wet the bed until he was waist high on his pa,” Biedy said. “It ain’t nothin’ they can help.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Callie ain’t said nothin’ ’bout the boy’s pa comin’ back? Why, that polecat! Hangin’s too good fer the likes of him. I’d a filled his tail with buckshot, is what I’d a done. I tell you, Jeff was fit to be tied when he come home and found that skunk had run off, a leavin’ her without no cut firewood or nothin’. I ain’t never had me no use fer niggas, but them two, that Henry and his boy, they took over the doin’ for Callie. They’re a better lot than some white folks I know.”

Callie came back with a subdued Amos, and Biedy burst into small talk. Annie Lash joined in. Callie cut the fresh bread for Amos and smeared it generously with blackberry jam. As he ate his spirits rose. By the time he finished his breakfast he was almost bursting with excited anticipation of the day’s events.

Martin came with the wagon an hour before the sun was straight overhead. The women loaded the wagon with the prepared food, blankets, baskets of plates, mugs, and eating utensils. Biedy, Callie, and the baby got up in the wagon and Annie Lash and Amos walked ahead to open the gates.

The walls were already partway up when they reached the house site. It was a wonder to see how the eight men paired off, teamed up, and worked together so fast. Four men lifted a log, and two men at each end notched it, making the chips fly. It looked easy the way they did it, but Annie Lash knew the weight of those logs and how they had to be cut just right so they would lie straight and level.

The water for tea was put to boil over a make-shift fire. Biedy fussed and clucked over Abe while Callie and Annie Lash, being careful to keep out of the way, looked over Will’s new home. He was inside the structure marking with a stick where the fireplace would go.

“Callie.”

She turned in the door and looked over her shoulder. Annie Lash had started back toward the wagon. Callie paused. This was the first time she had been alone with Will since Jeff had come home. She stood just inside the partially framed doorway, her throat tight, her eyes locked with his.

“Do ya like it?” he asked, as if her answer was the most important thing in the world to him.

She nodded. “Is that where the fireplace will go?”

“Along this wall. I wanted to put a window on the back, but thought it best to keep the back side solid.”

She nodded again. “It’ll be warmer without a window on the north. Safer, too.”

“I left this side free so I can build on later.” He walked through the chips and the shavings to the other side of the room. “I thought to build a dogtrot like Jeff’s. What do ya think?”

“It’s a good place for one. This will be a good, snug cabin.” She spoke slowly, thickly, her voice trailing.

They heard the men shout as one of the Cornick boys, riding the mule, pulled another log up to be placed on the growing walls.

“Callie . . . it’s yores anytime ya want it.” Will’s hand grabbed hers for an instant before he went out the door.

Callie stood with her face to the wall after he had gone. She had heard the quiver in Will’s voice and felt the trembling of his hand as it touched hers. It was there. All the love and comfort she had ever dreamed of having was there. She had seen it in his face and felt it in his hand. Her eyes smarted with tears.
My love, my love.

Annie Lash and Callie helped Biedy lay out the dinner. Biedy, in her sweet, melodious voice, ordered, commanded, and advised, and everyone obeyed. She kept the men laughing with her remarks. But when Henry and Jute hung back while the others came forward to fill their plates, it was Callie who ordered.

“Get yourselves on over here, Henry. I don’t want to be messing around with you and Jute when I got the younguns to feed. Come on, now. I’m not waiting all day for you to diddle around,” she scolded. “Get some of that turkey and ham, Jute, and some greens. I know you like fresh bread and berry jam, so get some. Annie Lash made huckleberry pie outta the ones you brought up, Henry. I know you’ll want some of that.”

“Yas’m, Miz Callie. Yas’m.” The two black men came shyly forward and filled their plates, then moved away to squat on the grass to eat.

Annie Lash had never seen black men eating with whites before, and she glanced at the Cornicks to see how they were taking it, but they seemed to be paying no more attention than if it was an everyday occurrence, and she breathed a sigh of relief.