Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (3 page)

“I got ’em! I got ’em! Hit ’em, Lenny,” he yelled.

Lenny got to his feet on unsteady legs, shaking his shaggy head to clear it.

Daniel, taking a step back toward the heavy oak door, reached up and grabbed a handful of Bernie’s hair. Using it as a handle, he whacked his head sharply against the edge of the door. Bernie immediately went limp and fell to the floor in time for Daniel to meet Lenny’s charge, that carried them both out the door.

Mercy scrambled to her feet and ran to the mantel for the pistol. On the way she stumbled over the cat, who screeched and hissed and ran with tail straight in the air. By the time her frantic fingers found the pistol, Bernie was on his knees, his head hanging between his arms. When he attempted to get to his feet, Mercy moved over and whacked him on the back of the head with the gun barrel. He sprawled facedown on the floor. She waited a moment, and when he remained still, she ran to the doorway.

With the tip of his knife in Lenny’s back, Daniel was urging him up the steps of the porch. Mercy stepped back out of the doorway, and the two men came into the light. Daniel’s eyes went to the man on the floor, then to Mercy.

“You all right?” He had a cut on his cheek, his shirt was torn, and he had a look of cold fury on his face.

Mercy nodded. She was trembling from head to foot. The pistol she held out at arm’s length wavered as if she hadn’t the strength to hold it. Daniel put his knife in his belt and gently lowered her arm until the barrel pointed to the floor, never taking his cold eyes from Lenny’s face.

“I ought to blow your goddamn head off!” His voice was quiet and deadly, his face dark with a fury Mercy had never seen.

“We warn’t hurtin’ ’er. We came ta fetch ’er home.”

“Fetch her . . . home?” Daniel’s eyes went to Mercy’s white face, then back to the man who had spoken the shocking words. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“She’s little Hester, what was took from us down on the Green in Kaintuck.”

“How do you know that? You stupid son of a bitch! Stay away from her if you want to keep that mangy hide in place.”

“We ain’t goin’ ta do that. Maw said fetch her if’n she had the Baxter mark on her butt. It’s thar, right where Maw said it was. She’s got the mole too. Me ’n’ Bernie got ta take her home.”

Daniel grabbed the front of Lenny’s shirt and shook him. “I should kill you for putting your hands on her!”

“How else was we gonna know? She warn’t goin’ ta tell us if’n she had the mark.”

“She’s not the woman you’re looking for, damn you! Her people were all killed. Farrway Quill found her. Now get the hell out of here and take that dog meat with you.” Daniel jerked his head toward the man groaning on the floor.

“Hester’d been stayin’ with kinfolk while Maw had another youngun,” Lenny said stubbornly. “When Paw went to fetch her, he found all our kin thar was dead, but Hester warn’t among ’em. We heard ’bout this here light-headed woman livin’ here with the high mucks. Peddler man said she come here ’bout the time Hester was took by them what killed our kin.”

“Are you accusing Farr Quill of killing your kin and taking your Sister?” Daniel asked quietly.

Lenny put his hands on his hips and jutted his chin forward. “Wal, it shore do look like he done it, ’cause
she’s
Hester.”

Daniel struck out suddenly and viciously. A knotted fist flattened Lenny’s lips against his teeth, and at the same time another fist grabbed him and slammed him back against the door. While his legs were melting under him, another fist connected with his nose, and Lenny slumped to the floor.

Mercy could see murder in Daniel’s eyes.

“Get up, you bastard! I’ll not kill you while you’re lying on the floor!”

“Daniel!” Mercy grabbed his arm. “Don’t! Just make them go!”

Daniel looked down into her tear-filled eyes. His hand moved to her shoulder, gripped hard, then slid across her back and pulled her to him. Mercy leaned against him, and just for an instant he stroked the top of her shining head with his chin before he moved her away from him.

Daniel picked up Lenny’s hat and sailed it out the doorway and into the night. Then he fastened one hand in Lenny’s shirt, the other in his crotch, and threw him out after the hat as if he were no more than a bundle of straw.

Bernie was getting to his feet.

“I’m a-goin’,” he murmured as he staggered to the door, his hand on the back of his head where Mercy had hit him with the gun barrel. At the door he turned and reeled back toward the muskets propped against the wall.

“Leave them,” Daniel said sharply. “You can get them in the morning . . . at the mill. Then if I see you near Mercy again, you’ll wish I’d killed you tonight. Understand?”

Bernie staggered out the door and Daniel followed.

“Daniel! Don’t go!”

Daniel turned, and his eyes caught her pleading ones. The pain in her voice knifed into him.

“I’m not going.” His voice was deep and warm, confident, and . . . safe. It smoothed over her like a tender hand across a bruise.

“Mister?” Bernie’s voice came out of the darkness. “Air ya Sister’s man?”

“I’m the man who’s going to tear you up if you come near
Miss Quill
again.”

“We ain’t meanin’ ta do ’er no hurt. Our Maw’s been holdin’ off the dark angel o’ death so she could see little Hester once more. The Lord’s been callin’ her to come, but Maw’s been shuttin’ ’em out. Says she ain’t goin’ till Sister comes home. We done swore to find ’er fer Maw.”

“Mercy’s not your Sister,” Daniel grated out harshly. “Even if she was, you’re strangers to her. She’s lived here all her life with a family who loved her . . . looked after her.”

“She’s Hester,” Bernie said stubbornly. “I can’t be helpin’ it if’n she don’t claim kin ta us. She’s Hester Baxter. The Lord knows she’s Hester too.”

Standing just inside the door, Mercy closed her eyes and put her hands over her ears to keep from hearing any more of what was being said. Now a new fear invaded her, and a slow freeze of new horror and humiliation settled over her. She forced herself to breathe evenly, to marshal her thoughts. After all the years of wondering who she
really
was, did she know at last? Did the same blood run in her veins that ran in the veins of those two disgusting creatures? Oh, God! she cried silently. Please don’t let it be so.

Mercy opened her eyes to see Daniel close the door and drop the bar across it. When he turned, she lifted eyes filled with anguish to his face. He had always been there when she needed him, just as he was tonight. Mercy’s earliest memories were of Daniel, a boy with serious brown eyes and thick brown hair, holding her hand, taking care of her.

“Look at the tadpoles, Mercy, but keep out of the water.

“Put that down! You’ll cut yourself.

“Get out of that pen, you silly girl, before you’re stepped on.

“No, you can’t see the bull put to the cow! It’s not a sight for girls.”

Mercy realized that she had not looked at Daniel, really looked at him, for a long time. Now he was a man with a quiet clean-shaven face, deep-set mahogany-brown eyes, thick chestnut hair that curled over his ears and drooped down on his broad forehead. He had a large frame, but life had given him a lean trimness. Constant hard work had built a powerful body with a vast supply of vitality. He was self-assured and confident, a man who knew who and what he was, and who was comfortable with himself.

He was all that was dear and familiar in Mercy’s world, and now that world had suddenly been split apart. Her eyes fastened on his face in mute appeal.

“Oh, Daniel!” Her voice choked on the cry, and her face crumbled helplessly. Great tearing sobs shook her, and with a soft cry she ran to him and threw herself into his arms, crying hysterically.

“Don’t cry. Don’t cry,” he said against the top of her head. He held her close against his chest, one hand at the nape of her neck, the other soothing her back, waiting for the storm of tears to spend itself. “Shhhh . . . don’t cry. You’ll make yourself sick.”

No sound was as comforting to Mercy’s ears as Daniel’s voice, deep and warm, with a strange, intimate tone he used when speaking only to her. It had always been so. She had not been close to him like this since they were children. He was like a rock, a fort; she felt safe and cherished. She needed the closeness and security that lay within his arms. Her crying eased a little, though she still trembled under his caressing hands.

“Are you through now?” he asked as gently as if he were soothing a child. Firm fingers raised her chin, and a soft handkerchief wiped her eyes and nose. Slowly her lashes fanned up, and her enormous blue eyes, all shiny with tears, looked up into Daniel’s. “Where’s that sassy spirit you’ve had all these years?” he asked her. “Didn’t you tell Mamma you could stay here by yourself for a few nights? Didn’t you say that you didn’t need me to stay with you because it would give old Granny Halpen talk to spread up and down the river?”

“Yes, I said . . . that.” She gulped back the tears. “Please stay, Daniel. I don’t care about old Granny Halpen. Let her talk.” She leaned back and grasped his arm so she could look into his face. Her mouth trembled. “Do . . . you think I’m
their
Sister? I’ve always thought of myself as
your
Sister, yours and Zack’s and Mary Elizabeth’s.” A teardrop rolled down her smooth cheek and settled into the corner of her mouth. Her fingers clutched Daniel’s forearms as if she were about to slide off a cliff. “I don’t think I can stand it if I’m who they think I am.”

His arms tightened, and she clung to him as if only within his arms there was safety.

“Of course, you can stand it.” His voice was husky with emotion. “It wouldn’t make any difference to us here. You would still be Mercy Quill, daughter of Liberty and Farr Quill.” He nuzzled his face into the cloud of golden hair beneath his chin.

“But my blood would be the same as . . . theirs! Oh, Daniel, they had lice in their hair, they were filthy dirty, and they smelled like . . . like they’d been sleeping in a hog pen!” She looked up at him again, her eyes filled with the misery that was tearing her apart.

“We’re what our upbringing makes us,” Daniel said earnestly. “Maybe if they’d had the examples of Farrway and Liberty Quill to follow, they would be like you and me.”

“And if Papa hadn’t found me, I’d be like
them.
Is that it?” she demanded tearfully.

“You wouldn’t have minded, because you wouldn’t have known anything different.”

“But I do now! I’ll not go with them. I don’t know the woman who’s . . . dying. I feel sorry for her, but I don’t know her!”

“Of course, you won’t go with them!” he said sternly. His hands moved to her shoulders and gripped them. “You’re not to worry about that. This is your home. You’ll stay right here.”

Mercy wrapped her arms about his waist and buried her face against his chest. When she spoke again, it was in a low, muffled voice, and Daniel had to lower his head and press his cheek to hers to hear what she was saying.

“They knew about the mole on my eyelid and the brown spot. I didn’t think anyone knew about the brown spot but Mamma.”

“I knew about it,” he said with an attempt at lightness in his voice. “I remember seeing it when we were children. I had forgotten about it until now.” He wrapped her more firmly in his arms and held her against his long length as if he wanted to take her hurt inside himself. “Won’t you try to accept that you may have been born Hester Baxter, but now you’re Mercy Quill, then forget about it?”

“I can’t forget about it, Danny.” The name came naturally to her lips, though she hadn’t called him that in years. “You’ve always known who you are. I’ve wondered for a long time about the people I came from. When I was a little girl, I’d watch a family come into town and wonder if they were my kin coming to get me. I never dreamed I would be kin to people like the ones who came here tonight.” She began to cry again.

“Mercy, Mercy, don’t take on about it,” he whispered with infinite gentleness. His fingers stroked the silky strands of hair back over her ear. “It’s true that I’ve always known who I was, but at times I wished that I didn’t. The man who sired me was a mean, cruel old man. I was only a small boy when we left Ohio, but I remember the whippings he gave me every night after he had read to me out of the Bible. ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child’, he’d say. And most of all I remember how my mother would cry while he was whipping me. Then she and I would sneak away and she would hold and cuddle me. It may have been good in a way to know about him, because it made me determined not to be like him.”

Mercy looked up at him with a world of sorrow in her eyes. “You never told me that.”

“I never told anyone. I’m not proud of who I came from, but it doesn’t bother me.”

“Oh, Daniel, I wish I’d known that.” Mercy took his face between her hands and searched his eyes for traces of bitterness and hurt. His facial expression was unreadable, but there was a warm fondness in the eyes that looked deeply into hers. She stood on tiptoe, and her lips brushed his chin. He moved back as if she had touched him with fire. The muscle in his jaw was jumping, but she didn’t notice.

“If Granny Halpen is looking in the window, Quill’s Station may be looking for a new schoolmarm tomorrow,” he said, his voice wavering slightly. “Let’s have some supper. You are going to give me supper?”

“I’ll make some hot biscuits, but I warn you, they’re not as good as Mamma’s. But first I’ll wash that cut on your cheek.” Her hands moved down his arms to his hands. She held them up and looked at them. “Oh, your poor hands! They’re all cut.”

“Not as bad as that Baxter fellow’s mouth and nose. He’ll not be eating or smelling much for a while.” His brown eyes twinkled into hers.

Mercy smiled through her tears. “The younger one will have a headache he’ll remember. After you cracked his head against the door, I hit him with the barrel of the gun when he started to get up. I was afraid I’d kill him, so I didn’t hit him hard. But it flattened him out.”

“Good. I was going to teach you to defend yourself, but you already know how to bash heads. How are you with the pistol?”