Dorothy Garlock (38 page)

It saddened Annie Lash when she realized no mention had been made of Jason during or after the meal. Usually at a time like this the talk was about the one who had passed to the “great beyond,” but the people that gathered here talked of crops, river trade, and the chance that the Missouri Territory would become a separate state. Neither Light nor Maggie was present, but she didn’t think of that until later.

Annie Lash was glad when it came time for the company to leave. Her head was pounding anew with nervous tension. Jeff had not looked at her, not even one time, that she was aware of. The strain was beginning to tell, and she was having a hard time concentrating on what was being said to her. When the food baskets were repacked, she and Callie walked out with Biedy and Mrs. Gentry. Silas brought the wagon around to the gate.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Gentry,” Callie said. “If you need help with anything a’tall, send us word. Biedy, you know we’re obliged.”

“Ain’t no call fer ya to be feelin’ obliged,” Biedy said and tied the strings of her sunbonnet firmly under her chin. “What’s neighbors fer, anyways? I was saying that to Martha, here, on the way over. What’s neighbors fer, I said, if’n they don’t come in time a need? Ya know Marthy’s man is brother to the other Gentry. I jist couldn’t be keepin’ them straight, so it’s Marthy ’n Gladys. Marthy’s Maggie’s ma. That Maggie scared the wind ’n water outta me at first. My, that child comes ’n goes like a butterfly! My land, she likes my pie. Sometimes I jist leave her a piece out on the porch ’n put a bucket over it. Come mornin’, it’s gone. It worried me somethin’ awful at first. Now I don’t pay no never mind. Silas, air ya ready? Ya was rarin’ to go afore I got my bonnet on. What ya standin’ there palaverin’ fer?”

Finally, the wagon was loaded and the boys were mounted on their horses. Silas slapped the reins against the backs of the mules and the wheels begin to roll.

“Bye,” Biedy called. “Bye. Y’all come, now. Don’t bother to give no notice, just pull out and c’mon. Silas ’n the boys’ll get us a big old tom turkey. Silas says he seen some what’d weigh . . .” Her words faded away on the warm June breeze.

“Do you suppose we’ll ever know what those turkey’s will weigh?” Callie asked as they walked back to the house.

Annie Lash smiled. “Biedy is a happy woman. One of the happiest I’ve ever known.”

Callie caught sight of Amos running across the yard toward her. His small face had a smile that split it in half.

“Look what Will caught. He said tie a string on its leg and I can hold it. He said it won’t hurt it none.”

“What in the world?” Callie bent to see what was in his small, cupped hand. When they opened, a giant junebug flexed its large, green wings and flew away.

“Shitfire!” Amos said and stomped his bare foot.

“Amos Pickett!”

Callie made a dive to grab him, but he eluded her and raced to Will, who was coming up from the creek with a bucket of water. He set the bucket down and caught the child in his arms. Callie watched, a small, tender smile on her face, then turned back toward the house.

The sun had gone down; evening shadows softened the outline of the huge cedar trees whose tops reached for the sky. It was the time of day poets wrote about; the gloaming, they called it. To Annie Lash it was the lonesome time of day. She wondered if her life had been different, if she had someone to share it with, would she feel the same about this golden time of the evening?

The strain in her relationship with Jeff had placed her in the position of a guest in his home. She felt now as she did when she had first come here, an outsider. She had waited all day for the opportunity to talk to him. He had come to the kitchen to eat his supper and gone out. He had been distantly polite, quiet, as if there was much on his mind. What to do now was a burning question in her mind.

Feeling tired and alone, she looked out over the land she thought she’d call home and tears misted her eyes. She had wanted to be completely honest with Jeff. She loved him and she had thought he loved her enough to be completely honest with her. She was ashamed that she had not waited for a more appropriate time to tell him of her disappointment in him for not telling her he would be away for a year or more. It was one of the few rash things she had done in her life. That, and running off toward the river. Mercy! she thought desperately, he’d never forgive her for that.

She left the bench on the porch and went to her room, struck a spark, and lit a candle. On an impulse she took down the oil lamp she had brought from the cabin on the Bank. It had been washed and filled with oil. She seldom used it as a candle was usually sufficient.

The light reached into every corner of the room and she immediately saw that Zan’s pack had been placed inside the door near the washstand. The sight of the familiar, soft leather bundle brought a lump of homesickness to her throat. She rubbed her hands over it lovingly before she lifted it and placed it on the bed. It was heavier than she had thought it would be, or else she was weaker than she thought she was. She untied the straps and laid out the contents.

There were several small leather bags of coins. She opened one of them and peered inside. Gold coins. She didn’t bother to count them. She pulled the drawstring at the top of the pouch and placed it beside the others. The extra socks she’d knit for him were there and a change of buckskins, as well as two sets of clean underdrawers. Zan had always been clean, she remembered. He had wrapped several well-oiled knives in a soft doeskin. In another packet was a silver spoon and a gold pocket watch with the picture of a sailing ship engraved on the back. The only other thing in the pack was a flat package, wrapped in oilcloth and tied with a thong.

Annie Lash laid all the other things aside and opened the package. Inside was a well-worn picture of a girl. The edges of the portrait were jagged and crumbly. She looked at it closely and her heartbeat picked up speed. It was a picture of her mother, Lettie; a miniature painted by the artist who had spent the winter with her mother’s family. The same artist had produced the pictures she had in her trunk. The likeness was of her mother when she was very young. The eyes that looked back at her were large and light blue. Her hair was parted in the middle and pulled back with puffs over her ears. How in the world had Zan come to have it? Why hadn’t he shown it to her? Did her pa know about it?

She laid the picture aside, and with trembling fingers unfolded a paper and held it to the light so she could read the faint words written there.

Dear Lash,

I take pen in hand to inform you that I will be wed to Charles Jester on the morrow. I love him, Lash. He is a staying man, a good man, and he loves me. You, my dear Lash, will always follow the next river, go over the next mountain or wherever your wandering feet will take you. You and your kind will open the West. Charles and his kind will stay and hold what you have gleaned from the wilderness after you have moved on to new frontiers. You will always have a special place in my heart. I will remember you always. May God go with you and keep you.

Lettie

Annie Lash read the short letter through several times. Dear Lash, it had said. So that was where she got her unusual name. Her mother had said she was conceived in love. Was it possible that she loved both her father and Zan? It was certain that Zan loved her. She folded the picture and the letter in the leather and wrapped them in the oil-skin, then tied it with the thong just as Zan had. So much was explained; Zan’s devotion to her, his concern and help when her father was struck down, his mention of her mother as he lay dying.

She placed Zan’s possessions in his pack and put it in the bottom of her trunk. As long as she had that, she had a part of Zan and a part of her mother, too. She blinked rapidly to hold back a flood of tears, then finally she was no longer able to control them and let them stream down her cheeks.

Later, after she had washed and put on her nightdress, she sat on the edge of the bed and brushed her hair, raking the soft bristles from the top of her head down the full length of her hair that hung to her hips.

The door opened and Jefferson stood there. Annie Lash glanced at him and then away, shocked, confused, embarrassed. He had such an odd expression on his face that she was frightened, too. He looked at her for a moment, then came in and closed the door.

“Did you find Zan’s pack?”

“Yes, I put it in my trunk.”

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m not.”

He came to her and put his hand beneath her chin and raised it. She looked at his grim face, then lowered her eyes. He turned her face so he could see the bruises and breathed a curse. He dropped his hand and moved away from her.

With downcast eyes, she continued to brush her hair. Her arms moved automatically, although they felt like each held a leaded weight.

She fully expected to hear the door open and close behind him. When there was only silence, she glanced at him, then gaped with astonishment. He had removed his shirt. The lamplight shone on his muscled shoulders and blond hair. As stunned as she was, it registered in her mind that he had been in the creek. His hair was wet and his shirt was damp from being pulled onto his wet body. He ignored her surprised stare, sat down on the bed beside her, and pulled off his boots.

“I talked to Silas today. He’ll be here a week from Sunday to marry us.” He got up and set his boots beside the wall.

“You what?”

“You heard me. Light is taking word to the MacCartneys and the Witchers up on the big river. They’ll be here. We’ll make as big a to-do about it as we can on short notice.” He worked at the fastenings on his pants.

“You should have consulted me before you made such big plans.” She stood and began to braid her hair.

“Leave it down. I like it that way.”

“I like it braided. And you can—”

“You heard me, Annie Lash. Don’t give me any of your sass tonight! Trouble’s been heaped on me the last few days like flies on fresh cow shit. I’ll not have my wife adding to it!”

“I’m not your wife!”

“You’re the same as!” He glared at her and jerked his britches down and stepped out of them. She quickly turned her eyes from his naked body. “I’m going to tell you this one time! I’ll not tolerate disobedience when it comes to keeping you safe. You were told not to go toward the river alone. You did and almost got yourself killed. You’re willful and headstrong, Annie Lash Merrick. But remember this: I am the head of this family. I expect to be obeyed!” He shouted the last words.

“You . . . expect? Ha!” Annie Lash’s independent heart pounded with indignation.

“Get into the bed, over next to the wall.”

“I will not!”

“You will, or I’ll spank your butt!” The look on his face said he would do it.

Her pride fought with her desire to do as he said. She hesitated, then slid beneath the sheet and moved over to the far side. What in the world was she doing? This was not the kind of marriage she’d dreamed about. True, she loved him desperately; but she couldn’t face the years married to him yet living alone. Her mind was filled with these thoughts and she had to tell him.

“I’m not going to marry you. I’ll not stay here as your wife while you go traipsing off to Virginia.”

“I’m not going to Virginia.”

“Well!” She flopped over to look at him. “Why didn’t you say so, for goodness sake?”

“You didn’t give me a chance.” He blew out the lamp and got into bed. He reached for her with strength that defied her to resist and pulled her into his arms. He lay on his back, his arm pressing her to his side, and heaved a big sigh.

“Oh, Jefferson, you make me so . . . angry!” she whispered and snuggled against him, her heart singing, so happy she wanted to weep.

“And I will again, love. You can count on it. Now, be quiet. I’ve got a lot to tell you, and I think I’d better do it before I make love to you, or I’ll forget half of what I want to say.” He planted a tender kiss on her forehead.

With Annie Lash clasped tightly to his side, he told her about his life in Virginia. He told her about his mother and father, and how, after his father died, his mother married a rich planter. Pickett spoiled his own son, Jason, by giving him everything and demanding nothing from him, but his stepfather had come to hate Jeff. He suspected him to be the bastard of Tom Jefferson, his enemy, because he had been named after him, and because of Tom Jefferson’s devotion to his mother.

“There was no truth to it. I had a legitimate father, whom my mother loved very much. His name was Wilson Merrick, and he was a good friend to Tom. While we’re on this subject, I’ll tell you, because I want no secrets between us. Will is more than likely the bastard son of the president. Tom settled a large amount of money on him a long time ago, but as far as I know Will has never touched it. He feels resentful, and who’s to blame him?”

“Does Callie know this?”

“Not unless Will told her. He was willing to give up that fortune to buy a divorce for Callie. Jason had agreed to it. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for money.”

After that he explained everything from his and Will’s part in gathering evidence against the traitor, Aaron Burr, to the reason why Light killed Jason.

“I understand why Light acted as he did. He would have done it even if he hadn’t fallen in love with Maggie. To him it was justice. He’s lived in his own private hell for so long; I hope he’ll find happiness with Maggie. They’re going away together. Light’s taking Maggie and going up the Missouri; going west where few men have ever been. They’ll see things never seen before by a white man.”

“Do you envy him?” she asked shyly.

“No. I’ve had my taste of opening new frontiers.”

“Maggie will be happier,” Annie Lash murmured. “People don’t understand her. Her beauty is more of a curse than a blessing.” They lay quietly, his hand caressing her arm as it lay across his chest. “I hope they find their Garden of Eden.”

“They’ll find it, darling. Just like we’ve found ours.” He searched for her lips and found them, kissing her deeply.

“Light was on his way here to bring me news of the men coming upriver, but also to bring me a letter, when he found Jason with Maggie.” He felt compelled to hurry and finish what he wanted to say so he could get on with the loving. “It took the letter a month and a half to get here. Burr’s trial date was set ahead. Not even his agent, Hartley Van Buren, knew the trial had already started. Will and I would never make it back in time to testify.”