Dorothy Garlock (32 page)

The morning dragged for the women sitting by the creek. It seemed to them such a waste of time to be sitting idly when there was so much to be done. Annie Lash watched Jeff’s white head move about the barnlots, making chores for himself. It was hard for him to be idle, too. She told Amos stories while she wove her needle in and out of a small hole in one of Jefferson’s stockings, pulled the thread through, and wove again. The sheets dried and Amos helped her fold them.

Finally noon came, and there was nothing else to do but go back to the house. Annie Lash was relieved to see Jeff come from the shed. He came down the path to meet them, took the basket of clothes from her hand, and walked into the house ahead of them.

Antone was alone in the kitchen. He looked up, bobbed his head, and looked away.

“I hope he washed his hands,” Annie Lash murmured to Callie.

Jeff took the clothes basket to Callie’s room, then went out into the dogtrot without a word.

“Jefferson’s edgy,” Callie said.

“He’s anxious for the day to be over just like the rest of us. Isn’t it a shame? Jason is his only blood relative with the exception of Abe and Amos. I know he feels badly about the way he behaves.”

“Jason hasn’t even looked at Abe,” Callie said sadly. “Poor little boy. It’s just like he don’t amount to anything.”

“Oh, fiddle! I don’t feel sorry for Abe. He’ll be better off if he never knows his father. He’s got you and Will. He’s got me and Jefferson and Amos to love him. He’ll do just fine without Jason Pickett!”

“I swan to goodness, Annie Lash. I can feel so down in the dumps, and you come along and say something that makes so much sense. I just got to keep tellin’ myself how good I got it now to what it was. It was just a lucky day for me when Jefferson found you in Saint Louis.”

Jason came in followed by Hartley and Jefferson. He stood stiffly beside the door, ignoring everyone in the room. Hartley moved past him and placed some sprigs of honeysuckle on the tressle table.

“Is everything ready, Antone?” He peered into the kettle simmering on the hearth.

“Yas’sah.”

“Cut the cornbread in nice square pieces this time,” he said pleasantly and looked over the table with a critical eye, rearranging a spoon, moving a bowl. “I’d sure like to persuade you to open a supply station here on the property, Merrick. That piece of land to the west would make an ideal place for a landing. You could be a very rich man in a few years.”

“It’s something to think about,” Jeff said from where he stood beside the door. “I’ve not given much thought to business. Farming has been on my mind for a long while.”

“Are you ready to serve, Antone?”

“Yas’sah.”

Jeff moved to the head of the table and motioned for everyone to take their places.

“May I sit beside you, young man?” Hartley said to Amos, and moved onto the bench beside him after the women were seated.

Jeff remained standing even after they were all seated. Annie Lash watched his face and was swept by a premonition of trouble. She glanced at Callie sitting on the other side of Amos with Abe on her lap. Her hand was behind Amos, touching his back to reassure him. She had looked once at her husband and then away. Jason sat slouched on the bench opposite them, his swollen mouth drawn down at the corners.

Antone moved quietly. He placed a plate of perfectly cut squares of cornbread on the table beside a crock of butter.

“It’s a pity we’re not going to be here longer, ma’am. I’d have Antone teach one of your blacks to cook. Cooking is one of the few things they—”

“They’re not used to quality living, Hartley, so save your breath,” Jason said belligerently. “The niggers are free. My brother doesn’t
hold
with slavery.”

“It’s your brother’s right to believe what he wants to believe, Jason.” Hartley flashed him an odd little smile. “We can’t all be right, and we can’t all be wrong.”

“My brother won’t agree with you, Hartley. He’s always right! Ask him anything. He’ll give you the
right
answer.”

“Don’t ruin what could be a pleasant meal with your sarcasm, Jason.” Hartley’s words had a bite in them, but he had an indulgent smile on his face.

Annie Lash sat motionless, her eyes moving around the table. She was unable to say a word. Her thoughts were going wild with speculation as to why Jefferson was still standing and why he had that tense, watchful look on his face.

Antone went to Jeff’s end of the table with the kettle and a small dipper. He ladled the thick soup into his bowl, then moved clockwise and served Hartley. He started to fill the bowl in front of Amos, and Jeff reached across and turned the bowl upside down.

“That’s enough. Put the pot down.” He said the words quietly, but they fell like stones in the quiet room. There was no mistaking the tone of command in his voice.

Visibly shaken, Antone looked from him to Hartley and back again before he carried the pot back to the hearth and hung it on the crane.

Hartley had picked up his spoon. Now he carefully placed it beside his bowl and looked at Jeff, a smiling question on his face.

“What seems to be wrong, Merrick? I think the chowder smells delicious.”

“Then eat it,” Jeff grated. His jaws were clenched and his dark eyes were hard as agates.

Hartley’s smile dropped away and his face turned a dull, angry red. Every head at the table was turned in his direction.

“What? What’s wrong with you, Merrick? I . . . don’t understand what—”

“I think you do. Eat your soup.”

“I can’t . . . eat, until the ladies are served.” He gave his bowl a shove as if to move it away from him. The push sent the bowl over, spilling its contents along the table. “Oh, how clumsy of me! I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said to Annie Lash.

She got to her feet to get a cloth to mop up the spill.

“Leave it,” Jeff said sharply. She sat down again, dumbfounded. He set his own bowl in front of Hartley. “Eat,” he said again.

Jason jumped to his feet and slammed his hand down on the table with such force it bounced the empty bowls. “What the hell is the matter with you, Jefferson? I’ll not have you treating my friend—”

“Shut up and sit down!” Jeff roared. He didn’t even look at his brother when he spoke. His eyes remained on Hartley.

Caught by Jeff’s tone, Jason looked from his brother to Hartley and back again. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on after your friend eats the chowder his servant prepared for us.”

All eyes were on Hartley. Even Amos sat in openmouthed fascination, forgetting for the moment his fear of his father.

“I don’t know what your brother is thinking, Jason. If he didn’t like the chowder all he had to do was say so. I’ve been insulted and I shall demand satisfaction.” Hartley’s knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the table.

Annie Lash drew in a dry, hurting breath. She had seen Hartley’s face change from one of friendly boyishness to the cold face of a hard man burning with anger. The air was heavy with explosive tension.

“Eat your soup and I’ll apologize,” Jeff said. He never moved his merciless dark stare from Hartley’s face.

“I’ll not give you the satisfaction of dragging this insulting situation any further,” Hartley snarled and got to his feet.

“What did you give your black to put in the soup?” Jeff demanded.

“What are you talking about?” Hartley’s lips were quivering with anger, his nostrils flaring. He looked cornered, desperate.

“It was poison!”

“You crazy fool! I gave him some . . . flavoring! Ask him.”

“Hartley, for God’s sake!” Jason’s confusion was giving way to doubt. “Drink the soup and prove him wrong.”

Hartley placed his hands on the edge of the table, bowed his head and shook it sadly. “You, too?” he said wearily. “My friend—” Then he moved.

Hartley’s actions were so quick the eyes could scarcely follow them. One arm grabbed Amos up against him, and at the same instant a long, thin blade appeared in his hand. He held it inches from the boy’s throat. He backed away from the table, dragging him with him.

“Move out of the way,” he snarled.

At first Amos was so frightened he couldn’t move. Then he let out an agonized wail, “Ma . . . ma!”

Callie screamed. “Amos!” She tried to stand. Her cry scared Abe and he let out a piercing scream.

“You bastard!” Jason yelled. “You were going to kill all of us! Why? For God’s sake! Why?”

“Stay back!” Hartley’s face had taken on the expression of a cornered wolf.

Annie Lash’s thoughts flew wildly, crazily. How could she have ever thought he was handsome?

“Put the boy down!” Jeff crouched to spring, a knife in his hand.

“Move out of the way or I’ll cut his throat!” Hartley had backed to the wall beside the door.

“No, you won’t. You don’t stand a chance without him.”

“Jeff . . . er . . . son, please!” Callie was almost hysterical. Her agonized scream was heard over Abe’s loud, frightened cries.

“Get out there, you black, bungling bastard, and saddle my horse,” Hartley shouted. Antone was so frightened his shoulders were hunched and his head hung between them as if he were trying to hide. His eyes went from Hartley to Jeff. Jeff nodded and he sidled out the door.

Amos was almost out of his mind with fright. His eyes were large and wild. Tears flowed down his freckled cheeks. Hartley held him in a grip so tight he could hardly breathe, but with every gasp of breath he called for his mama.

Anger blazed in Annie Lash. She had never before felt the desire to kill. On the trail she had acted automatically when she shot the robber, but now she wanted desperately to kill Hartley Van Buren for what he was doing to Amos. Callie’s screams filled her ears. She reached over and jerked the crying baby from her arms.

“Don’t hurt him! Please . . . don’t hurt him,” Callie pleaded. “He’s just a . . . little boy!”

“Stay back or I’ll kill him,” Hartley snarled.

“Take me . . . take me,” Callie pleaded and moved toward him. “Take me and let him go!”

“Shut up and stay back!” There was desperation in his eyes as they shifted wildly about.

“You hurt that boy and you’ll wish you were dead a hundred times over,” Jeff warned.

Hartley backed out the door with Amos held like a trapped animal against his chest. The child’s terror-filled eyes were fixed on his mother.

The horrifying scene danced before Annie Lash’s eyes like a terrible nightmare. Oh, dear God, she prayed, let me wake up and find this is a dream.

Jeff was at the doorway almost as soon as Hartley cleared it. He held his arm across to prevent Callie from running out into the yard.

“No, Callie! Don’t crowd him,” he said sharply. He moved quickly and was out the door.

Annie Lash followed after Jason, who seemed to be in a shocked stupor. Abe had ceased to cry and lay against her, hiccupping and sucking his thumb.

Hartley stood at the corner of the house, his eyes roaming the landscape. Antone was in the barnlot, trying to catch the skittish mare.

“I’m the one you want, Van Buren,” Jeff called. “You came to get me. I’ll throw my knife down. I’m not armed.” He moved into the yard with his hands in the air.

Hartley ignored Jeff and yelled to Antone. “Get a horse, any horse, and put a bridle on it!” He started across the yard with Amos screaming and crying.

Callie made an inarticulate sound in her throat and started forward. Jason grabbed her arm and held her. Sobbing with terror, tears streaming down her face, she swung her fist and hit him square in the face.

“Gawddamm you!” she screamed. He loosed his hold and she jerked free.

“Ma . . . ma! Ma . . . ma!” Amos screamed with every breath.

Hartley didn’t see the wolf-dog when he first came out of the shadows beside the shed, but Annie Lash did. The dog stood on stiffened legs, his head low, his eyes on Hartley, his teeth exposed in a silent, vicious snarl. The hair stood up on his back from his neck to his extended, bushy tail. Annie Lash stood mesmerized, knowing something was going to happen.

“Ma . . . ma!” The boy’s agonized wail rent the air.

Hartley turned and saw the dog the instant he sprang. His natural instinct moved his arm up to shield his face, taking the knife from the child’s throat. The force of the dog’s weight knocked him to the ground and he lost his hold on Amos. The child fell hard and rolled free of the tangled bodies of the man and the dog.

The sounds now were a mingling of vicious growls from the dog and short, desperate cries from Hartley. Jeff rushed in and scooped Amos up in his arms and thrust him at Callie. By the time he turned back it was too late to help Hartley. He lay sprawled on the ground, his throat open, his windpipe torn from it. The wolf-dog stood over him, hunched, ready to attack again, his muzzle wet with blood.

“Oh, my God!” Jason croaked.

Annie Lash turned her back and buried her face against the babe in her arms. She fought to control her heaving stomach. When she looked again, the wolf-dog was moving away toward the shed, dragging his hind leg, his head low. Jeff was kneeling beside Hartley. The torn arteries in the man’s neck poured blood onto the ground. She put her free arm around Callie and urged her away. Amos had both arms wrapped about his mother’s neck and his legs locked about her waist, clutching her as if he’d never let her go.

The two women stood holding on to each other, the two children between them. The last few minutes had taken a toll of their strength. Callie crooned to her son, and pressed kisses on his wet little face.

“It’s all right, my sweet baby. You’re all right, now. Oh, my little boy—”

When the shot came the sound was so abrupt and so unexpected that Callie screeched and Annie Lash jumped with fright. Her first thought was of Jeff. Oh, God! Where was he? She looked wildly around and saw Jason reloading his gun as Jeff ran toward him.

“No, you fool! No!”

“I’m going to kill the black sonofabitch who was going to poison us! Stay out of my way, Jefferson!”

“You, fool! If not for him we’d all be dead!”

“I’m going to kill him, I tell you. I’m going to kill him!” Jason’s voice was shrill and the words coming out of his mouth were almost incoherent. He was bordering on hysteria and his hands shook so he could hardly hold the gun.