Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (17 page)

Levi had met Hammond once before in Louisville and knew he was a thoroughly unpleasant man. He pulled up on the reins, took off his hat, and wiped his forehead.

“Good day to thee.”

“Goddamn you, Quaker! I’ve chased you for three days. You’ve got my nigger and her whelp, and, by God, I mean to have her back!” He wheeled his horse so that he could reach the ropes holding the cover over the wagon bed. He began to cut the ropes with a long knife. “Get that cover off! Empty the wagon and get that wench out of there!” he yelled to the men, who jumped off their horses to obey.

“What are thee doing, friend? I pray thee stop this destruction of my property. Who are thee searching for?” Levi wrapped the reins around the brake handle and climbed down over the wheel. The canvas had been ripped off the wagon bed, exposing the rug samples, boxes of buttons, an assortment of thread, and carefully wrapped bolts of cloth and lace. The men were tossing them out of the wagon. “Stop! Stop! Thee are ruining my trade goods.”

“Trade goods, hell!” Hammond snarled. “I’ll break every bone in your mangy body if I don’t find my nigger. I know you took her from Evansville. By God, I’ll make you sorry, you . . . Bible-thumping son-of-a-bitch!”

“There’s nothin’ here,” one of the men said when he could see the bare floor of the wagon bed.

“Get everything out, you fool!” Hammond shouted. “There’s got to be a false bottom in that wagon!”

Levi stood by, wringing his bony hands. He ran to pick up a bolt of fine lace that had been tossed into the dirt and clutched it to his chest.

“Thee are ruining me, thee are ruining me,” he chanted sorrowfully.

“Turn the goddamn wagon over,” Hammond roared.

“No!” Levi pleaded. “Thee will hurt the beast.”

One of the men, a man with a stubble of red beard on his face, quickly unhitched the team and stung each of the animals on the rump with his whip. They took off down the road and were quickly out of sight. The wagon was tipped on its side and examined.

“There ain’t no double floor in this wagon.” The man who spoke went to his horse and mounted when he saw the rage on Hammond Perry’s face.

Four of the men began rummaging in the goods they had tossed out of the wagon. One of them picked up a bolt of material and took it to his horse.

“The nigger ain’t here, but I’ll have me some of this dress goods fer my trouble. By jinks’ damn! I know me a woman who’d shine up ta me for a hunk of this.”

The red-bearded man who had freed the horses stood watching Hammond whose eyes were on Levi Coffin. Hate and rage contorted his face.

“You thieving son-of-a-bitch! You left her at Quill’s.” Hammond spoke calmly, but his hands were trembling violently. He suddenly pulled his gun from the boot on his saddle and pointed it at Levi. “That’s the last nigger you’ll steal.”

The red-bearded man sprang forward and grabbed Hammond’s arm.

“You’re not killing him. He doesn’t have your nigger.”

“Get your hands off me, you scum!”

“You’re not killing him,” the man repeated as he held Hammond’s arm in an iron grip. “You don’t know for certain that he hides your runaways.”

“Damn you! A man who works for me stays in his place and does as he’s told.” Hammond’s face was livid with anger.

“You said nothing of murder.”

“I aim to put a ball in his knee, damn you! I’ll cripple the thieving Bible spouter.”

“It’s the same thing. He’d die out here.”

“You . . . you lily-livered bastard,” Hammond shouted. “You’re done!”

“Then give me my pay.” The steely eyes of the red-bearded man bored into Hammond’s.

Growling with frustration, Hammond shoved his gun back into the boot, took some coins from his pocket, and threw them into the dirt at the man’s feet.

“Goddamn your creeping, crawling soul! Grovel for them!” He yanked on the reins, causing his horse to spin around. “Take what you want and let’s go,” he yelled to the men still rummaging among Levi’s trade goods.

Several of the men grabbed up bolts of cloth or lace before they mounted and rode after Perry.

“Thank thee, Edward.” Levi wiped the sweat dripping from his face.

“He’s a mean one, Levi. I’ll not be any more use in keeping an eye on him for you now.” Edward Ashton stooped and picked up the coins Hammond had thrown on the ground at his feet. “It’s just as well. Another day and I’d have split the bastard’s gullet.”

“What happened at Quill’s Station?”

“Nothing much. First Phelps made Perry madder than a stepped-on snake so that he wasn’t thinking straight. Then he let it slip that you were headed for Springfield. Perry took it that Phelps was trying to throw him off the track. We headed south for the ferry like a prairie fire was behind us. It wasn’t hard to pick up your trail.”

“Good man, Phelps.”

“I’d hate to go up against him myself. He’s got a look about him that says he’ll not back down, and he’s got the size to back it up. Say, Levi, I’m almost sure a feller trailed us across the river. Does Phelps have a young, light-colored nigger with hair braided like an Indian’s working for him?”

“Yes. I met him at the mill. He’s the son of a Negro and a Shawnee woman.”

“I saw the same feller a couple of times. He was sly about his trailing, but he’s a man who stands out. He had on Indian dress, but there was no mistaking his color.”

“Did Perry see him?”

“Perry was like a hound dog on a scent. He had his nose to the ground and was too hot on your trail to notice anything. But he knows about the boy. He’s heard that he’s a pet of Mrs. Quill. He said that if he had him, he’d put him to a high-colored wench and get whelps that would bring top price.”

“Such inhumanity intensifies my hatred of slavery and inspires me to devote myself to the cause of the helpless and oppressed,” Levi said fervently.

“Yeah? You’re not going to help anybody if you’re left beside the road with your throat cut. I’m almost sure Hammond Perry is a member of the Mystic Clan, James Murrell’s outlaws, who rob, steal slaves, and pass counterfeit. He’ll put the word out on you. You’d better not be roaming around alone.”

“Is he also a partner to John Crenshaw at the salt works known as Half Moon?”

“I don’t think he’s a full partner. Crenshaw is too smart for that. Perry is more than likely associated with Crenshaw in the Negro-napping operation. He furnishes slaves for the salt works at a good price. It saves Crenshaw from renting them from planters across the line.”

“’Tis said Crenshaw not only profits from human bondage and enforced servitude, but he also is cruel man. Slaves are under the whip and treated like animals.”

“I know one slave who doesn’t think Crenshaw is a cruel man. He’s the one that Crenshaw keeps to service the young, healthy females. He’s got a smile on his face a yard wide.” Edward’s blue eyes slitted with amusement at the horrified look on Levi’s face.

“Edward! That’s against God’s teachings and not to be made light of.”

“Yeah, so it is.” The grin disappeared from Edward’s mouth, but the twinkle remained in his eyes. “We’d better get the wagon turned upright. You can put your goods back in while I get the horses.” Edward shook his head. “Beats me all hollow how you’ve kept from being killed roaming around on these roads all by yourself. You’ve got to start using some horse sense, Levi. You’re getting pretty well known to the slave hunters. If Perry don’t get you, some of the others will.”

“The Lord is with me, friend.”

“Yeah? Let’s hope the Lord gets you to Newport. If he does, stay there and take care of your store. You’re better suited to setting up a network of places along the way where a runaway would be safe. Leave the transporting across country to others. Help me turn the wagon over.” Edward brought a stout branch from a deadfall beside the road. “When I lift, shove this under the wagon bed.”

Edward went after the horses while Levi reloaded the wagon. When the team was hitched in place, Levi climbed up on the wagon seat.

“I thank thee. I will take thy advice and return to Newport. Get word to Phelps that Hammond Perry has his eye on George and will seek revenge.”

“I’m on my way.” Edward mounted his horse. “A few miles from here there’s a family by the name of Rankin. He’s a son of John Rankin of Ripley who has helped so many runaways. Stop and make yourself known to him. He may be able to send one of his sons with you.”

“I will be all right, Edward.”

“Dammit, Levi—”

“Thee must not swear.”

“All right, but seek help from the Rankins. I’d ride with you, but I want to see what Perry will do next.”

“He could kill thee.”

“He couldn’t, but he might hire someone else to do the job. I’ve got to be going. Take care, Levi.”

“God go with thee, Edward.”

*   *   *

“Shut up!” Hammond Perry turned in the saddle and shouted to his men. The fact that he had been outwitted by Daniel Phelps was a cancer gnawing at his insides. He was nursing a resentment that flared into rage given the slightest provocation.

The men riding behind him had been laughing and talking. They were excited over the goods they had taken from Levi Coffin’s wagon and were boasting about the favors it would buy from the trollops along the river. A quiet settled among them. Each man secretly despised the small, cocky man who sat his saddle with his back straight as a board and his head tilted back. They put up with his overbearing ways because the pay was good.

Retaliation was on Hammond’s mind. He had suffered another indignity at the hands of his old enemies, the Quills. He knew just how to make them pay. He would capture the nigger known as George Washington and take him to Crenshaw. If he didn’t want to use him as a stud, he would be put to work in the salt mine. Before he was finished, Hammond vowed, he would have every Negro who worked on Daniel Phelps’s land.

Hammond’s mind drifted back to the time before the War of 1812. He had been a lieutenant in the militia serving under Major Zachary Taylor and stationed at Fort Knox, a few miles from Vincennes. Liberty Quill had married Hammond’s brother Jubal, in upstate New York and, with her father and Sister, had set out to homestead along the Wabash. Jubal had died on the journey to the Illinois Territory, and later Liberty had married Farrway Quill. She had conspired against Hammond Perry when he had Quill arrested for treason and tried at Fort Knox. Major Zachary Taylor had sided with the Quills, and Perry had been banished to Fort Dearborn to serve for two years, a duty dreaded by all militiamen.

Perry’s hatred for the Quills even surpassed his hatred of Major William Bradford, who had been given the assignment of establishing Fort Smith, an assignment Perry had coveted with every fiber of his being. He would have been chosen if not for the lies told by Bradford. Shortly after that he had left the service. For a time Hammond’s hatred had been directed toward Bradford, and he had schemed to kidnap Bradford’s prospective bride, Eleanor Woodbury. In that effort he had been thwarted by Rain Tallman, another one of Farrway Quill’s strays.

A growl came from Hammond’s throat at the thought of all the frustrations that had been dealt to him by the Quills. This time he would win. His first move would be to take George, the son of that uppity nigger who ran the ferry back in the days before the war. If Crenshaw didn’t want him, he’d transport the damn nigger so far south that Quill would never find him, or else he would kill him. Then he would concentrate on the niggers on Phelps’s farm. After that there was Eleanor McCourtney and that big Scot she had married.

Hammond rode with his head down. If Quill had not crossed him, none of this would be necessary. Revenge would be sweet.

“We’ll just see who has the last word, you bastard,” he whispered. “We’ll just see.”

W
hen the sun was directly overhead, Daniel signaled for Mercy to pull off the road and stop beneath the branches of a spreading maple tree. He helped her alight from the wagon, then lifted the covered basket out of the back and set it on the ground. Mercy spread a cloth from the basket and laid out buttered bread and cooked chicken while Daniel unhitched Zelda and led her and his mount to the river to drink.

Lenny and Bernie stopped a good fifty feet behind them, talked in low tones, then rode toward the river. Daniel returned and picketed the horses. He lifted a jug of water from the wagon and brought it to where Mercy sat on her shawl beneath the tree.

“Where’s Lenny and Bernie?” She took the tin drinking cup from the basket and set it on the ground beside him, then handed him a chicken leg and two slices of buttered bread, laid face-to-face.

“Watering their mules. I don’t think they’ll wander off,” he said dryly, and filled the cup from the jug.

“Minnie must have worked all night cooking this food. She packed food for several days. We’d better eat the meat. It’ll not keep like the eggs and the huckleberry pies.” She lifted the cup of water to her lips and drank deeply.

“I sent word to her in the afternoon. She had the basket ready when I went out to the farm last night.”

Mercy ate the buttered bread before she spoke again. “It’s hot for this time of year.”