Dorothy Garlock (8 page)

“Is they a settlement thar?” Mr. Gentry asked.

“No.” Jeff nodded toward Silas and Isaac. “Silas and his family are my nearest neighbors. They have a place five miles this side of mine.”

“Is thar decent land what’s not took up?”

“Plenty for those who want to work and clear it.”

“Hiram . . . could we?” The woman with the baby moved
forward hopefully.

The man ignored her. “We needs to git set, git a crop in an’ git up a cabin afore winter sets in.”

Jeff lifted his shoulders. “There’s a Territory man at Saint Charles. He’ll point out the parcels available. We’ll help you get that far.”

“We’d be obliged—ah, beholdin’ to ya. We be hill folk an’ that river be plumb worrisome,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Get ready to shove off. We’ll camp on that land that juts out from the shore.” Jeff lifted his arm toward the timbered island about a half a mile upstream. “The water’s smooth between here and there. You’ll make it without any trouble.” He jumped down onto the raft.

Annie Lash looked around for Zan, wondering how she was going to get down onto the bobbing craft. Jeff was watching her, his eyes darkly amused. He tossed his hat onto the platform and extended his hands. The sun flinted on his white hair. He was smiling.

“C’mon. I’ll catch you.”

“You can’t. I’m . . . too big.”

He laughed. “Not as big as me. C’mon.”

“But I’ll knock you down.”

“I doubt that. Lean forward. I’ll not let you fall.”

“Don’t blame me if we go into the river.” She tilted her body toward him. Just before she leaned so far there was no turning back she closed her eyes tightly and let herself fall forward.

Miraculously, his hands found her armpits and hers his shoulders. She was swung down and her feet struck the floor of the raft. Her shyness gone, she giggled softly, her eyes shining up at him. His face was alive with smile lines that fanned out from the corners of his mouth and his eyes. She took her hands from his shoulders and he let his drop to his sides.

“I told you I wouldn’t let you fall.”

“I didn’t . . . believe you.”

Weakened and made clumsy by the exhilarating experience, she stumbled, and his hands shot out again to grip her upper arms. His dark eyes, as they watched the crimson flood her face, glinted with devilish amusement.

“Whoa, now.”

“I’d never make a . . . boatman. I’d better sit d-d . . . down.” Ashamed of the stammer in her voice, she moved toward her seat on the platform. Jeff clasped her elbow to steady her when Isaac leaped from the bank and the craft rocked on the water.

Seated once again on the trunk, Annie Lash watched the girl, Maggie, walk slowly out of the woods, cross the grassy clearing to where her parents waited, and leap lightly down onto the raft. She is so curiously lovely, she’s like someone from a fairy tale, Annie Lash thought. Her skin was honey gold, her dark hair a soft swirling cloud about her thin, beautifully constructed face. Her body was boyishly slim except for her small pointed breasts. Her mouth was soft and as red as an apple. She reminded Annie Lash of a picture she had seen of a dark-haired angel floating down out of a misty white cloud with flowers in her hand and a crown on her head.

A pole struck hard against the side of the craft and Annie Lash turned to see Isaac staring at the girl as if he was seeing a vision. His admiration was so open, so frankly intent, that she could not help but think of what Mrs. Gentry had said: “Menfolk say she puts a spell on ’em.” Her swift glance took in the other male members of their party. Light was also watching the girl with the same intensity, and his arms were moving the pole automatically. Zan and Jeff were straining to push the raft away from the bank, their attention absorbed with that task. Silas Cornick leaned on his pole and watched the other raft with a puzzled look on his face.

Annie Lash looked back to where the settlers were hurrying to get their craft into position to follow them. She felt a tinge of apprehension and drew the tip of her tongue over dry lips. With her eyes focused on a raucous cloud of gulls working their way upriver she tried to force her mind away from the thought that something truly new and unimaginable was going to happen, something for which she was totally unprepared.

*  *  *

The campfire of dry cedar knots and splinters burned with a clear, hot flame and what little smoke there was drifted away to be dissipated among the thick, overhanging branches of the cedar grove. They ate fish again. In a quarter of an hour, Light had caught three perch, a bass, two small white catfish, and a giant pike. Annie Lash had watched him wade out beyond the reeds and, using a hand line, cast a hook to which he had tied a bit of feather as a lure. It had barely hit the water when it was struck by the bass with a violent lunge.

Fish was not Annie Lash’s favorite thing to eat and she wondered why they were eating it when the island was alive with waterfowl. The birds were restless and noisy, and when disturbed the whole island would erupt in raucous clamor and then gradually quiet as they settled down once more. She mentioned it to Zan.

“Ain’t no sense in lettin’ every livin’ thing know we’re here, Annie Lash. A shot’d carry five mile downriver. Hit’s jist a mite easier to catch a mess a fish an’ be on the safe side.” He looked down the shoreline to where the Gentrys were camped. “Damn fools!” he barked loudly. “They ain’t got no brains a’tall.”

Annie Lash watched him lope down the sandy shore toward the big, blazing fire that lit up the whole area. In a few minutes the bonfire was reduced to a small glowing blaze with a shield of dry brush between it and the river, and Zan came back to where she was waiting.

“Jeff done tol’ ’em not to shoot. He ne’er thought ’bout ’em buildin’ a fire big nuff ta roast a buffalo,” he grumbled.

“I’ve heard about the renegades who attack the settlers on the river, robbing and killing—”

“Hit ain’t only river rats, Annie Lash. Injuns use the river fer travelin’, if they cin do it. Hit bein’ spring, they take to prowlin’ considerably. Hit’s plumb queer them Gentrys ain’t had a brush with ’em afore now.”

“I’m glad you’re with me, Zan.” Annie Lash impulsively hugged his arm.

“Ya ain’t got no cause to worry none, gal.” Zan chuckled. “I’m a thinkin’ thar ain’t much what goes by Jeff and that Frenchman. I ain’t ne’er seen a man use a knife like that Frenchie. He ain’t no slouch, that’s sart’n.”

*  *  *

The moon came up over the treetops. Annie Lash took her soap and washcloth and walked through the trees to the other side of the small finger of land to the water’s edge. With a quick nervous glance behind her to be sure she was alone, she unbuttoned her dress to the waist and pulled it back over her shoulders. The water was cold, but she scrubbed herself briskly and splashed water onto her face. It was wonderfully refreshing to be clean again, even though she shivered in the cool night air.

After she pulled her dress up over her bare shoulders and buttoned the bodice, she moved back under the trees, sat on a boulder, and took the pins out of her hair. She freed it from the braid and let it fall about her shoulders to her hips. It felt good to have the heavy weight off the top of her head. Her fingertips massaged her scalp and raked through the long strands to remove the snarls before she began the long sweeping strokes of the brush.

Night fog began to rise from the river in wispy patches. She lifted her hair and swung her shawl around her shoulders to hold off a chill. It was peaceful here in the darkness. It had been a long time since she had been alone out under the stars so she lingered, brushing and then braiding her hair.

Annie Lash saw the girl as soon as she came out of the woods. She darted from the tree line to the water’s edge, stood poised for a moment, then lifted her dress up over her head. Her naked body was merely a white form in the darkness. Quick as the wink of the eye, she was in the water and disappeared from sight.

Annie Lash thought her heart was going to stop beating and never start again. She got to her feet, keeping her eyes on the place where Maggie had gone into the water. She knew the perils of the river; the pockets of quicksand, the whirling eddies that could grasp a stout log and draw it to the bottom. Just as she was about to shout for help, Maggie sprang up out of the water and leaped up onto the bank. She picked up her dress and slipped it over her head. Annie Lash sank back down on the rock, her heart pounding with anger at the girl for giving her such a scare.

Anger was soon replaced with awe. She stared in openmouthed amazement at the girl on the sandy riverbank. She was singing softly and the beauty of her voice was both surprising and delightful. It was as clear as the song of a lark and Annie Lash thought it no wonder the hill folk thought she was a witch. Maggie began to dance, her bare feet scarcely touching the soft sand, her arms curved gracefully upward, her hair flying as she dipped and swayed and turned and spun in perfect harmony with the tune she was humming. She was completely absorbed, twirling, dancing, singing to herself. And then—almost like the mist—she was gone.

For a fleeting second Annie Lash wondered if she had dreamed she saw a girl dancing and heard the bell-like tone of her singing. She sat for a long while, her hands in her lap, thinking about it. It was almost as if the girl were enclosed in a timeless world.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” Jeff’s sharp words from behind her caused Annie Lash to jump to her feet in alarm. “I thought you had bedded down on the raft until Light told me you were here.”

“I came here to wash—”

“Zan thought you were on the raft, too. You should have told him where you were going.”

“I’m not a child, Mr. Merrick. I was within calling distance.” Annie Lash was astounded at the coldness of his voice and then angered. He certainly was a man of many moods.

“It’s foolish and stupid to wander off alone.”

“I knew there was no danger.”

“No danger? This island is crawling with snakes, not to mention the hostiles that could beach a canoe and carry you away before you had time to take a deep breath.”

“You’re just trying to frighten me because you know my fear of snakes!” It had been on the tip of her tongue to tell him Maggie had even been in the river, but she held back, knowing he was in no mood to listen. “I’m sorry for being a bother to you. It won’t happen again.” She turned and marched stiffly back through the thick stand of trees toward the glowing coals of the campfire, very much aware that Jeff stalked angrily along beside her.

“Here she is, Zan. I’ll thank you to keep an eye on her until we get home.”

“Where ya been, Annie Lash?” Zan was on his feet. Light and the Cornicks were not in sight. “You ain’t ort to be goin’ off by yoreself.”

“Don’t you go jumping on me, too. I just went over there to wash myself and to brush my hair.”

“Ya warn’t dirty. All ya done all day was sit on that raft. Gawd amighty! Ya coulda brushed yore hair here,” he insisted impatiently.

“Well, I never—” she sputtered. “If you gentlemen will excuse me I’ll go to bed and you can rest your minds about me for the rest of the night.” She tossed her head defiantly and was grateful for the darkness that hid her flaming face and the tears that sprang to her eyes on hearing Zan’s rebuke. She strode briskly toward the raft, her head high, litheness and grace in every line of her body.

Zan chuckled. “She c’n get her back up quicker’n scat. She ain’t no namby-pamby, my gal ain’t.”

“She’s . . . headstrong,” Jeff snapped, and kicked dirt onto the coals with his moccasined foot.

Zan looked at him sharply. “Ya got a burr under yore tail ’bout somethin’?”

“Godammit, Zan! Why’d you say that? It was foolhardy for her to go off like that and you know it as well as I do.”

“Yup, ’twas. But hit didn’t call fer no lashin’ out like ya done. Air ya gettin’ stuck on my little gal?”

“You ragged ol’ son of a grizzly b’ar! If you wasn’t so damned old I’d knock that chaw of tobacco down your throat. Don’t go reading any meaning in my words. Women! They’re just a mess of trouble anyway you look at it.”

Zan doubled over laughing. “I don’ know as I ever seed a man bit so hard.”

Jeff stared at him in cold silence, then turned on his heel and walked away.

Darkness lay upon the river. It had been a relief when, in the middle of the afternoon, they had glimpsed the low-roofed cottages of the little French settlement of Saint Charles, the first and last white habitation of any consequence on the river. They beached the raft a half-mile upriver from the town, and the men unloaded it, stacking the goods back from the shoreline. Silas and Isaac left immediately to bring the teams and wagons for the trip to the homesteads.

Dusk came and they built a fire. Almost before the fire had a good start they heard shots, six in all, and Light loped into camp. He knelt beside the water with six plump mallards, their heads neatly shot off. He disemboweled the birds with one stroke of his knife, washed them, and then plastered the carcasses with river mud. Jeff scooped a hole in the sand beside the fire and pushed a part of the burning embers into the bottom of the hole. He dropped the clay-covered birds in, scooped in more embers, and filled the hole with sand.

Jeff came to hunker down on his haunches beside a second fire Zan had built well back from the river. He was glad to have his feet on solid ground. The river to him was a means of getting from one place to another and nothing else. He had no romantic illusions about the river that knew no recognized banks. Yet destructive as it was, it was permeated by fertility. It teemed with life. In the tributary creeks were trout, in the pools, bass and pike. And in the muddy depths of the main stream, there were great catfish weighing up to a hundred pounds. Geese, ducks, brant, tern, and snipe swarmed in incredible numbers above the river and fleets of goslings and ducklings cruised in each backwater.

Jeff was anxious to get home to Berrywood. He had never uttered the name he had given his holding aloud, but in his thoughts home was Berrywood, where sycamores, walnuts, cottonwood, and willows attained an enormous size. The tallest were crowned by the foliage of huge grapevines that shot upward from stems the thickness of a man’s arm, and beneath the spreading branches were strawberry plants, blackberry and raspberry bushes, as well as grapevines and pawpaw. There was also an abundance of hickory nuts, pecans, and acorns providing food for the forest population of deer, bear, raccoon, turkey, and squirrel.