Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (44 page)

Finally a faint sound reached them. Farr whistled again. Waited. The echo came back again.

“Where is he?” Farr hissed, and walked slowly toward the horses.

The faint birdcall came again.

“He be back of the house.” Gavin stood by his horse. “What to do now?”

“You and Mike wait here.”

Farr sprang up the veranda steps and, without knocking, opened the door and walked in. Long strides took him toward Crenshaw’s office. The servant was pushing the man out into the hallway.

“Crenshaw!” Farr’s voice was as sharp as the crack of a whip.

“What do you want? What do you mean coming back into my house unannounced?”

“My boy, George, is here. Come out onto the veranda.” Farr strode ahead and held open the door. The servant pushed the chair over to the veranda railing. “Listen,” Farr commanded. He cupped his hand around his mouth and whistled the birdcall, loud and shrill.

Faintly the call was answered.

“What the hell am I supposed to be listening for?” Crenshaw asked. “All I hear is a bird.”

“That’s no bird. That’s George. His father and I used that birdcall to keep track of each other when we were boys. He taught it to his son; I taught it to mine.”

“It could be a bird!” Crenshaw insisted, his face growing red with anger.

“Not a
night
bird, Crenshaw!” Farr gritted angrily. “I want that boy. Send your man to get him, or we’ll shoot out every window in this house, and you might just accidentally get in the way of one of those shots!”

“There is no one here by that name! Now get off my land. Representative or not, this is my property.”

“My advice to you is cooperate. I want the man who answered that call, regardless of what his name is. I warn you, Crenshaw, I fight dirty.” Farr called out to Mike and Gavin, “If he doesn’t give the order to get that boy by the time I count to three, start shooting. Shoot through the front door, Gavin, and hit that chandelier that came from Italy.”

“I’ll ruin you!” Crenshaw shouted.

“One . . . two . . .”

“All right, I’ll have the boy go get him. We have a runaway locked in the shed behind the house. He’s to go back to his owner in Kentucky. Get him!” he snarled to the servant.

Farr whistled the birdcall again. The answer came back.

“That boy better still be whistling after your man gets there, or you’ll be whistling from a new hole in your throat.”

“Don’t you threaten me, you backwoods . . . dolt! I could buy and sell you a hundred times. We’ll see who carries weight in this state. I bring in enough revenue every year to pay for that damn courthouse.”

The servant came back around the house with a man heavily shackled, his arms tied behind him. At first glance Farr felt his heart sink. The braids, so strongly a part of George’s identity, were gone. Shoeless and ragged, he could take only small hopping steps.

“Mistah Farr!” The cry was a weak whimper.

“Good God! George!” Farr hurried to him, pushed the servant away, and folded George in his arms. He held the sobbing boy. “God damn you, Crenshaw,” Farr said over George’s head. “I ought to kill you!”

“Mistah Farr, Mistah Farr . . .” It was all George could say.

Gavin poked the servant with the end of his gun. “Get them irons off him.”

The servant looked at Crenshaw. Crenshaw nodded, and the servant went into the house. He returned almost immediately with a ring of keys, then knelt and unlocked the chains that bound George’s legs.

“He doesn’t have braids. He’s not Indian. He’s a nigger,” Crenshaw said. “Not that there’s a mite of difference between them. How in the hell was I to know who he was? He was brought here for safekeeping, is all.”

“You stick to that story, Crenshaw. It’s the only thing that’s keeping me from putting a bullet in you. We’re leaving. This boy is half starved, and the sores from the chains are festering.” He led George over to Mike. “Take him up with you, Mike, and ride on out. Gavin and I will be behind you.”

Farr and Gavin mounted when Mike and George were a distance down the road.

“I’d think a smart man like you, Crenshaw, would be more careful with whom he does business. Tell your associate, Hammond Perry, that my son lives in spite of three bullet holes in him. The men Perry hired are dead.”

“Tell him yourself if you want him to know something.”

*   *   *

John Crenshaw sat on the porch for a long while after the riders were out of sight. Farrway Quill was a man to be reckoned with. He felt fortunate that he had gotten out of this situation as easily as he had, considering the influence the man had in Vandalia.

“Raymond!” he shouted, although the servant was right behind him. “Get your black ass over to Hammond Perry’s and tell him to get up here.”

Crenshaw was in the office when Hammond came hurrying in. The sight of him walking on two legs, when he only had one, always irritated Crenshaw.

“What’s going on, John? Raymond said to hurry, and I did.”

“It’s a goddamn good thing too. The longer I sit here, the madder I get. You’re the stupidest damn fool this side of the Ohio. If, by your stupidity, you have blown my whole operation here, I’ll have you killed.”

“What . . . what’s happened?”

“I’ll tell you what’s happened, you blundering idiot! Why didn’t you tell me that boy you brought here to stud was a pet of Farrway Quill?”

“Well, I . . . what difference does it make?”

“A hell of a lot of difference! Quill was here looking for him and found him! How is that going to set with the state officials when he goes back to Vandalia and tells it?”

“Found him? How?”

“He used a birdcall. The boy answered. Cutting his hair wasn’t enough, fool! You should have cut out his whistle!”

“He would’ve made us some money.” Hammond began to get his courage back.

“You chinless bastard!” Crenshaw shouted. “I don’t think you’ve got the brains you were born with. I’ve no use for a man who can’t think. Get out! Come around here again, and I’ll have the dogs put on you.”

“You . . . can’t mean that!” Hammond gasped and stepped back a step, coming up against the arm of a chair. “I’ve brought you some of your best people.”

“You’ve brought me trouble I can’t afford, Perry. I’ll manage somehow to make my peace with Quill. I don’t need you around with your petty little grievances to mess up my operation. You have bleated to everyone who will listen about how Quill has wronged you and that you intend to even the score. You’ll not do it at my expense. Get out! I’ve said it twice, and I’d better not have to say it again.”

Hammond went to the door. His legs were not quite steady, his eyes not quite seeing. He looked over his shoulder. Crenshaw swung himself around in the chair, presenting his back to him. Scarcely knowing where he was going, Hammond left the house. He climbed up on his horse as a black rage started deep inside him and spread, until he was trembling and saliva was running from the corner of his mouth.

He gigged the horse cruelly. The animal took off on the run, his hoofs digging up and throwing chunks of the carefully tended lawn. In the woods, Hammond threw himself off the horse; rolled on the ground, his hands pressed to his temples; and cried out his rage like a small boy having a temper tantrum. Finally he turned on his stomach, pillowed his head on his arm, and cried real tears. They ran down his face into his beard.

“God damn Quill! And God damn the whole world!”

All his dreams of being someone important had been washed away again, by Quill. This time he would get to Quill in a way it would hurt him the most. He’d take that bitch he had married, rape her, give her to his men, then kill her, leaving the body for Quill to find. After that he would go downriver to New Orleans and take a boat to some foreign port and start anew.

Hammond sat up and dried his tears on the sleeve of his shirt. The son of a bitch would not win this time.

D
aniel sat on the edge of the bed shaving with his right hand while his left arm lay in a sling against his chest. Mercy held the mirror.

“I don’t know how you do that so easily. Do you ever cut yourself?”

Daniel dipped the razor in the pan of water and swished it back and forth before he answered.

“Sometimes.” He brought his upper lip down and held it between his teeth so that he could shave beneath his nose.

“Will you ever grow a mustache?”

“Do you want me to?”

“No. You’re handsome enough as it is. I don’t want to have to fight the women off.”

He looked at her quickly and saw a serious look on her face, but he also saw that she was holding her lips between her teeth to keep from laughing. Daniel laid the razor down beside the wash dish and picked up the cloth to wipe away the soap he had used to soften his whiskers.

“Some women like to kiss a man with a mustache. They say it tickles.”

“Humph!” She snorted. “And where did you pick up this valuable information?”

“Here and there.”

“If you couldn’t use your right arm, would you let me shave you?”

“And have you ruin my handsome face?” He looked at her with mock alarm. “Sweetheart! That shot merely grazed my head. It did nothing to addle my brains!”

“Conceited creature!” She turned the mirror facedown on the bed. “You’ve looked at yourself enough for today. Now that you’re on the road to recovery, I’ll have to stop spoiling you.” She lifted her chin and looked down her nose at him, as if she were talking to one of her students.

“You’re the one who told me I was handsome,” he said teasingly, his eyes full of bewilderment.

Suddenly Mercy remembered the serious-faced boy of long ago. This Daniel was smiling; his eyes glowed. Her heart sang. Because of her, Daniel was happy. A feeling of supreme happiness washed over her. She turned her mind back to the teasing.

“To me you
are
handsome, because you’re mine. To someone else you may be as ugly as a mud fence.”

“A mud fence!” He spoke as if he were talking to some unseen person in the room. “I can’t believe she’s saying these things to me.”

“And there is more, my love. I made it clear to Belinda’s mother when she was here yesterday that you are no longer an eligible man. I told her to say hello to Belinda for
us,
and to tell her that
we
want her to come visit us as soon as you’ve recovered and we’ve moved out to
our
farm.”

“We’re back to that, are we?” He grinned at her, his eyes shining.

“No, we are not back to that. Your prowling days are over. You are a married man with a very jealous wife. Now get back in the bed before I kick your sore leg.”

“What a mean and vicious wife I have,” Daniel said to the ceiling. “Does Mamma know how you’re treating me?”

“She and Eleanor are upstairs looking at Mary Elizabeth’s baby clothes. Eleanor was going to wait until Gavin came back to tell the news, but she let something slip, and Mamma pried it out of her. I hope we don’t have to wait ten years to start our family.”

“I’ll do my part,” he said innocently. “I’ll work on it day and night. Put that washdish down and kiss me.”

Mercy bent over him. His hand came up to the back of her neck, pressing when she would have moved back after a light, feathery kiss.

“Hmmm . . . you smell and taste good.”

Mercy rubbed her slim nose against his. “I love you,” she whispered, as if there were ears to overhear.

“I love you. I wish you were in bed with me,” he whispered back. His hand moved down and fumbled with the buttons on her dress. Her hand caressed his smooth cheek, then dropped to his hand to hold it still.

“You’re a lot better . . . if you’re thinking of
that
!” She straightened and looked down at him, with bright, twinkling eyes. “You are the light and the love of my life, Daniel Phelps, but behave yourself.”

“But, honey, it’s hard to behave when you’re leaning over me and your soft breasts—”

“Being the only man in this house for the past few days has gone to your head! We’ve all spoiled you—Mamma, me, Tenny, and Eleanor, not to mention Minnie, who thinks you’re the stars and the moon.”

“I’m a very lovable man,” he admitted.

“Tomorrow or the next day, or whenever Papa gets back, you’ll have to share our attention; you might as well get used to the idea,” she said in her stern, schoolteacher voice.

“I’ll not share your attention, Mrs. Phelps.” His hand slid along her spine. His eyes teased her. “A husband has rights. You promised Cousin Farley to obey me. So kiss me again.”

“Lie down and rest.” She snapped her teeth at him. “If you’re good, we’ll let you get up and sit on the side of the bed to eat your supper.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to take this washdish out to the kitchen, and I’m going to take the clothes off the line. I don’t know what I’ll do after that, but I won’t be in here, so rest.” Mercy picked up the washdish, the razor, and the towels.

“I wonder if Belinda would have been so mean to me!”

“You’ll never know, will you?” Mercy retorted, and grinned impishly.

She left the room with a smile on her face. Her heart was light. Daniel was better, so much better. When she had lifted his leg back onto the pillow, he had not even grimaced. She saw in her mind’s eye the bedeviling slant of his smile when she left him. Oh, how she loved that man!