Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (28 page)

“Ya done real good, Martha, for havin’ no more time than ya had. Land, but yore good at fixin’ up greens. Ya make that old hominy look good too.”

“Yore the one what made that old hominy, Maw.”

“I see yore hand in . . . the fixin’s, Dory. Ain’t that some a the honey ya . . . made Wyatt get the time he got . . . stung.”

“Yes, ma’am. That little old sting didn’t hurt him none. Ya want I bring ya some on some corn bread?”

Mercy and Daniel stood apart from the family and watched them gather around her mother. Wyatt and Gideon, the two brothers she hadn’t met, had given them only a curious glance. All their attention was on the woman Hod held in his arms. Even the children who had raced and played in the yard stood quietly and watched.

Hod carried his mother back inside, and the brothers followed. Soon Mercy understood why. The men had picked up their mother’s bed and moved it so she could look out the door. Martha hurried in to put more covers over her.

When the men came out again, Wyatt came directly to Mercy. He had smooth, suntanned skin; a wide, generous mouth; and good teeth. His hair was thick and bushy but not as wiry as that of his brothers. He had a blond mustache, merry blue eyes, and an infectious grin.

“Now ain’t ya jist as purty as a June bug? I was thinkin’ I was the only Baxter what was good ta look at.”

“Don’t pay him no mind, Hester,” Dora said in passing. “He ain’t near as handsome as yore man.”

Wyatt turned his grin on his wife and playfully nipped her bottom with his fingers. “Yore lible to get a switchin’ fer that, Dorybelle.”

“Hello.” Mercy held out her hand. “Have you met Daniel?”

“No, I ain’t. But I heared plenty.” He extended his hand to Daniel. “I hear ya hunt bear with a willow switch.”

Daniel laughed. “Not quite.”

“I’m Gid.”

The boy who spoke was as tall as Wyatt but whiplash thin. He was the handsome one in the family. Mercy saw that at once. She realized that Gideon was well aware of that fact also, and was plenty proud of himself. His hair was very blond, as fine as silk and carefully brushed back from his forehead. His features were not as rugged as his brothers’, and when he smiled, his face lit up.

“Hello, Gideon.” Mercy held out her hand. The boy took it in both of his and smiled into her eyes.

“Hello, Hester.” He spoke as if she were the only person in the world. Mercy knew immediately that this was part of his charm, the charm that allowed him to do what Lenny and Bernie had bragged about. She felt a strong desire to let him know she thought him an irresponsible child.

“Practicin’, Gid?” Wyatt hit his brother so hard on the back, the boy took a step toward Mercy. “Charmin’ womenfolk is his way a-passin’ the time. He do love womenfolk. Ain’t that right, Gid, boy?”

“Y’all quit yore jawin’. It’s eatin’ time.” Dora came up beside her husband, and he threw an arm across her shoulders. “Stay way from Emmajean, Gid.” Dora said bluntly. “My Sister ain’t but twelve. I ain’t havin’ ya diddlin’ with her ’n’ ruinin’, like ya done the Morgan girl.”

Gideon laughed. “Then ya better tell her to stay way from me, Dorybelle.”

“Take yore places,” Hod roared.

After the men were seated, there was one place left. Martha and Dora stood ready to serve, and the children lined up behind Hod with a plate in their hands.

“I’ll wait and eat with Martha and Dora,” Mercy said when Hod waved her toward the vacant place beside Daniel. Bernie and Lenny had moved as far away from him as was possible.

“Sit down, Hester. This here’s yore homecomin’.”

While Mercy was taking her place the dogs slunk out from under the porch. Hod’s roar sent them scampering back. Then he stood and held his palms together in front of him.

“God, it was good a ya to send our Sister, Hester, home. We thank ya fer it. We ain’t never been askin’ ya fer much, but food fer our belly ’n’ wood fer our fire. Now we be askin’ ya fer somethin’ that means a heap to us. We be wantin’ ya to make our Maw’s passin’ easy. And when she gets over thar, we want ya to let ’er meet up first off with our Paw, ’cause it’s with him she’s wantin’ ta be. Thanky fer the food, ’n’ fer keepin’ us all fit. Amen.”

Mercy’s throat was so full of sobs, she thought she would choke. She raised her eyes and looked at her brothers. Their eyes were closed. Hod finished the prayer, sat down, and began to fill the children’s plates.

As the late afternoon turned into evening, Mercy was as tired as she had ever been in her entire life. She wondered how Martha stood up to the work. The only time she had sat down was when she nursed her baby. Dora worked alongside Martha, doing the lighter chores. Both women insisted that Mercy sit with her mother, whose bed had been moved back from the door.

Daniel visited with Hod and Wyatt. The older Baxters seemed interested in what he had to say about farming, and asked him questions about his mill. Bernie and Lenny sat at the other end of the porch, played with the children, and every once in a while sent one of them for the whiskey jug being passed between Hod and Wyatt. They had offered the jug to Daniel and laughed when the fiery drink took his breath away. The strong drink didn’t seem to affect the Baxters. But after the first few swigs Daniel’s speech began to slur, and he realized he’d had enough.

Mercy came out of the house at dusk. The hills seemed to close in when the sun went down. Both Wyatt and Hod held sleeping children in their arms.

“How’s Maw?” Hod asked.

“Sleeping again. She’s eaten very little today.”

“She ain’t et enough to keep a bird alive fer a week now.”

“It seems she’s having a harder time getting her breath than when we first arrived,” Mercy said worriedly.

“I noticed it,” Hod said.

Dora came hurrying around the end of the house and made straight for Wyatt. “I can’t find Emmajean, ’n’ I can’t find Gid. If he’s taken her off ’n’ crawled on her, I’m goin’ to fix him so’s he won’t be ruttin’ fer a while. What he needs is a horsewhippin’.”

“I thought Emmajean went off to put Hod’s younguns to bed.”

“She didn’t. Hod’s younguns is in there sleepin’ on a pallet. Where’s Bernie? Where’s Lenny?”

“Gone to bed, I reckon.”

“Damn that Gid! I told Emmajean what he was like. She ain’t used to havin’ a feller courtin’ her. He’s a horny little toad, is what he is! He’s going to get somebody killed sure as shootin’ if’n he don’t quit droppin’ his britches ever’ time he sees a woman.”

“Calm down, Dorybelle.” Wyatt shifted the sleeping child over onto Daniel’s lap and got to his feet.

“Calm down! If it was yore Sister Gid was fornicatin’ with, ya’d bash his head in. Then you ’n’ Hod’d wear yore tails off runnin’ fer the preacher!”

“Yore makin’ a lot outa nothin’,” Wyatt said patiently. “Gid ain’t never took no woman what wasn’t willin’. Me ’n’ Hod’d bash his head, ’n’ he knows it. But if’n yore so all-fired worried, c’mon, we’ll go find Emmajean.”

Mercy’s face burned with embarrassment. The Baxters were the plainest-talking people she’d ever been around. There was just nothing they didn’t talk about. She looked down at Daniel. He didn’t seem to be uncomfortable at all holding the sleeping child. She thanked God for his quiet presence. She moved up close behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder, as if he were the only steady thing in a tilting world. He looked up. Their eyes met. There was no need for words between them.

Hod’s sudden laughter drew Mercy’s attention.

“If thar’s a skirt in a mile, ya can bet that Gid’ll be under it if he gets half a chance. He’s the horniest little sucker I ever knowed!”

“And you think that’s funny?” Mercy asked coldly. She looked down her nose at her brother. Disapproval was evident in the way she held her head and in the clipped way she spoke. Daniel knew the signs. Mercy was getting her back up.

“Well . . . it ain’t nothin’ to be ’shamed for.”

“And you think it’s an admirable trait?”

“What’re ya talkin’ about?”

“How would you like to have a ‘horny little sucker’ like Gid violate your daughters?” Mercy’s anger was making her speak her mind, regardless of the consequences.

“Violate?”

“Do wrong to . . . misuse.”

Hod was taken back by her frankness and didn’t answer for a minute. “I reckon it’d depend on if’n she wanted it. If’n she did, it’d be all right. But he’d make it right.”

“By making it right, you mean you’d force her to marry him, and she’d have to live with the ‘horny little sucker’ for the rest of her life while he continued to beget bastards?”

“We have our ways here,” Hod said, his voice rising with anger.

“I see that you do.” Mercy’s voice matched his in tone.

“What’re ya gettin’ so het up fer? It be a natural thin’ a man be doin’.” There was a puzzled look on Hod’s face.

He really doesn’t know! The thought crossed Mercy’s mind. It was beyond her understanding how a father could talk so about his daughter. It puzzled her that they could love their mother so much, yet put such a small value on the virtue of a young girl. Her lips formed the question, but it was not voiced.

Dora came around the end of the house with her hand firmly attached to the arm of a young girl who was crying. Wyatt followed, pushing his brother in front of him. Gideon showed none of the shamefacedness that would be expected under these circumstances. He walked like a proud little rooster, and he was grinning broadly.

Dora reached up and yanked straw out of the girl’s hair. “I warned ya, Emmajean. Yore goin’ home come sunup. I ain’t got no time to be ridin’ yore tail to keep Gid off’n it.”

“I don’t know why yore in a lather, Dorybelle. I didn’t do nothin’ but kiss her a little.”

“Jist shut yore mouth, Gid Baxter! I know what ya done, ’n’ I know what ya was tryin’ to do. Wyatt snatched ya off afore ya had time to do it.” Dora put her hand on her hip and shook her finger in Gid’s face. “All the brains ya got is in that thin’ hangin’ ’tween yore legs, Gid! Beats me why yore so all-fired proud of it. It ain’t like yore the only man in the world what’s got one. I’m hopin’ ya get it caught in somethin’ ’n’ it get tore right off ya, afore ya ruin ever girl in these hills!”

“Ohhh! Ohhh!” Gid grabbed his privates and staggered back in a dramatic show of misery. “Don’t even think such a thing, Dorybelle.” He glanced at Mercy to see if she was enjoying his performance.

Mercy decided then and there that she didn’t like this younger brother who had nothing but fornication on his mind. Her mouth tightened, and she looked away from him. Hod’s sharp eyes read the message of disgust on her face.

“Stop actin’ the fool, Gid,” he said sharply. “Let Emmajean be. If’n yore itch is such ya can’t abide it, find one what’s willin’ to oblige ya.”

“She was willin’ enough. It ain’t like she ain’t been used.” Gid grinned openly at the still sobbing girl who hid her face behind Dora.

“That’s a lie,” Dora shouted.

“Why’s it a lie about her? It warn’t no lie ’bout you, Dorybelle! Yore belly was all puffed out when Wyatt brung ya home,” Gid said nastily.

“Shut your mouth, boy!” Wyatt said quietly. “Ya talk respectful to my wife. Hear?”

“Emmajean’s goin’ home at sunup,” Dora said staunchly. “Pa’ll handle Gid if he goes smellin’ ’round over there.” Dora took her sleeping child from Daniel’s arms. “We’ll be goin’ on home now. You comin’, Wyatt?”

“Soon’s I look in on Maw.”

*   *   *

Hod, carrying one sleeping child and leading two more, went home to the cabin behind the pines. Martha had prepared a pallet for herself and her baby on the floor beside Mrs. Baxter’s bed, leaving the bed in the kitchen for Mercy and Daniel. Mercy had tried to convince her that she could look after her mother through the night, but Martha had insisted in her quiet way that it was more “fit” that she get a good night’s sleep after such a long journey. Mercy had watched her bring a pan of warm water and a clean rag and bathe her mother’s face. For such a big woman, Martha had a gentle touch, and it was obvious that she loved the frail little woman. Mrs. Baxter had been still and trusting under Martha’s hands.

“Yore jist to rest yerself now,” Martha had said. “I be here on the floor by ya if’n ya want nary a thin’.”

“I’m a thankin’ ya, Martha.”

“I know ya are. Ya go back ta sleep.”

Mercy went out to the porch and sat down beside Daniel. The moon was up and flooded the homestead with light. The silence was absolute, except for the occasional grunts of the hogs under the house. Without these sounds, Mercy thought, one might think the world had gone away, leaving only her and Daniel here on the end of the porch.

It was cool, and she had not brought out her shawl. Daniel saw her shiver and put his arm around her. She turned to him, tucked her shoulder beneath his armpit, leaned her head against him, and cuddled against his warmth. She was weary and closed her eyes for a moment.

“It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?” he murmured against her forehead.

“Yes, and one I’ll never forget. What do you think about my family now?”

“They’re a typical hill family: proud, hardworking. This is home to them, just like Quill’s Station is home to us.”

“They have strange ways—and stranger values,” Mercy said slowly.

“Probably forced upon them by circumstances.”

“That’s no excuse for the way Gideon behaves.”

“There are many Gideons in the world, honey. You just haven’t run into one before.”

“I keep thinking about how it would be to live here, have hogs under the house, chickens coming up onto the porch and wandering in, not being able to read or write, not knowing what went on in the world outside these hills.”

“You would have been happy. Dora seems to be, and Martha appears to be content. There’s no need for you to think about that now. You don’t live here, will never live here.”

“It makes me look at myself differently,” she whispered against his neck. “I feel sorry that my mother grieved for me, and I hate myself for being glad that I was raised by the Quills, but—”

“Shhh. You’re not to feel guilty. None of it was your doing.”

“I couldn’t live here now. Poor Martha works like a horse. Hod seems to have absolute control. He assigns the work, tells everyone what to do. I suppose he took over after . . . after my father died.”