Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (11 page)

It didn’t occur to Addie not to obey the softly spoken order. She took the children by the hand and together they sat on the edge of the porch. Trisha followed reluctantly, muttering and looking back over her shoulder at the man on the ground. Dillon climbed into Addie’s lap as soon as she sat down and framed her face with his two small hands.

“Love ya, Muvver.” There was an almost desperate look on his little face. Addie felt like crying.

“I love you too, my darlin’ boy.”

“Love Trisha too.”

“I know, and Trisha loves you too. Now, you and Jane Ann are not to worry. We have some trouble here, but we’ll work it out.”

“Colin said Mr. Tallman wouldn’t let old Renshaw take him away,” Jane Ann said from where she sat on Trisha’s lap, her fingers twisting a strand of hair on the top of her head as she often did when she felt confused.

“I ain’t countin’ on that
passerby.
I’m countin’ on that gun to keep old Renshaw ’way from Colin,” Trisha said in a deadly calm voice.

Addie’s thoughts raced in wild confusion. She was sure that Renshaw’s relatives would come for Trisha; and because she was colored, they would hang her without giving it a second thought. She had to convince Renshaw that she—Addie—was the one who had shot him. She would claim that he had accosted her. They wouldn’t dare hang
her
without a trial.

“Stay here, honey, and take care of Trisha and Jane Ann,” she said to Dillon and set him on the porch beside Trisha, who placed an arm about him and hugged him close.

Addie walked rapidly across the yard to where John squatted beside Renshaw. Colin had guided Renshaw’s team and wagon close to where the man lay on the ground, still moaning and cursing.

“The bullet busted his hip,” John said to Addie. “We need a flat board to put him on so we can lift him into the wagon.”

“There’s an old door in the barn. Colin and I will get it.” As she passed Renshaw, she paused and looked down. “I’m not one bit sorry I shot you. If the decent men in this county knew what a filthy cur you are, they would take you out and hang you.”

“That nigger bitch is the one who shot me!”

Addie’s lips curled, and when she spoke her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“All the Renshaws are stupid, and you’re the stupidest of all. You’re so dumb you don’t even know who shot you. I did, and I’m proud of it. I only wish I’d killed you.”

Addie was aware that John had stopped working on Renshaw and was looking at her.

“Get the door, Addie.”

Addie and Colin carried the old wooden door from the barn to where Renshaw lay, his hand protectively shielding his privates. John shoved it close to him.

“Tilt to the side if you can.”

“I . . . can’t, gawd damn you!”

John shrugged. He moved the man’s shoulders. Then, with his hands beneath his hips, he dragged him onto the board. Renshaw screamed in agony.

“Can you and Colin lift one end of the board?” John asked.

Addie nodded. “Where are you taking him?” she asked, after they had lifted and then slid the board onto the bed of the wagon.

“Home. He told me how to get there. Get my horse, Colin, and tie him to the tailgate.” John took Addie’s arm and led her away from the wagon. “This is going to cause plenty of trouble. Your taking the blame is not going to help. He knows Trisha shot him, and he swears she’ll hang for it. I’ll take him home, then I’ll be back. While I’m gone, keep Trisha and the children close to the house.” His voice was low and even, but his tone left no doubt that he expected to be obeyed.

“All right.” She stared at him, trying to read his thoughts. A flush tinged her cheeks, but her wide violet eyes didn’t waver. Shyly, she placed a hand on his arm. “Mr. Tallman, I thank you; Colin and Trisha thank you too.”

John’s mind seemed to grind to a halt. He felt the warmth of her hand on his arm even after she had removed it. He was confused by the depth of his desire to take care of this woman and those she held dear. He forced his lips to smile and to speak lightly.

“I’ll say one thing for you, Addie. You’ve got more than your share of spunk.”

Addie’s eyes fastened to his. “You do what you have to, Mr. Tallman.”

“This is serious business.”

“I know. What did the magistrate say?” She couldn’t help asking; it had been on her mind all morning.

“We’ll get no help there. If someone rides in, Addie, stay in the house. Don’t let anyone in. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Under his dark, steady gaze, her heart began to hammer. Right at this moment he didn’t seem a stranger she had met only a few days before. He seemed a trusted friend. After a long, searching look, he turned and climbed up on the wagon seat.

She watched the wagon go down the lane to the road. He’d said “we.” He’d called her Addie, too. Suddenly she didn’t feel so alone.

“Colin, get the cow. Give her some of the grass we cut yesterday.” Addie hurried to the porch where Trisha sat with Dillon and Jane Ann. “We’ve got to get Mr. Jefferson and the ewes back in the sheep pen.”

“I’ll help Trisha!” Jane Ann jumped off Trisha’s lap.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Dillon and I will see to my bread dough.”

“What that passerby say?”

“He said he’d be back as soon as he could. He’s going to help us, Trisha. Lord knows we need all the help we can get right now.”

“Why ya say ya shoot that old shithead for?”

“Shhh . . .” Addie glanced at the children. They were interested in a horned toad that had come out from under the porch. “You know as well as I that Mr. Renshaw will stir his folks up to come get you. But they’ll not dare touch me without having a trial.”

“I ort to a killed ’im. It wouldn’t a been no worse.” Big tears came into Trisha’s golden eyes. She looked like a small, frightened child. Addie hugged her, and the girl clung tightly.

“You’re as dear to me as if you were my own. I’ll fight with my last breath to keep you safe. Think of all we’ve been through the last few years and how we’ve managed to stay together. We’re not alone now. Mr. Tallman will be back, and he’ll tell us what’s best to do. I know one thing—I’ll shoot every damn Renshaw on that hill before I let them put their hands on you.”

*    *    *

Time passed slowly. A meal was prepared, the children were fed and something was put by for Mr. Tallman in case he wanted it. Addie’s mind had been busy mulling over the idea of going to Birdsall and offering the farm for cash. They had to get away from here not only for Colin’s sake but now for Trisha’s, too. The more Addie thought about it, the more convinced she became that it was the only thing to do, and that it would have to be done as soon as possible.

“Trisha, would you and Colin be afraid to stay here alone for a while? I’m going over to see Birdsall and ask if he was sincere about buying the farm.”

“I ain’t afeared o’ them no-good Renshaws.” Trisha tossed her black mane and glared defiantly, but Addie wasn’t fooled by her brave show; her lips trembled and her hands shook. The girl was terrified.

“If they do anything, it will be later this evening; and Mr. Tallman will be back by then. I shouldn’t be gone more than an hour. I think it best to talk to Mr. Birdsall before he finds out the trouble we’re in. Colin, help me hitch up the team.” Addie took off her apron, smoothed her hair, and picked up her sunbonnet.

“Don’t ya worry none ’bout these younguns. I take care of ’em. Guess I showed old Renshaw we ain’t ta be messed with.”

“When I get back, we’ll load the wagon with as much as we can take. Sort out the foodstuffs, the clothes and blankets, Trisha. We’ve got to take that whether or not we take anything else.” Addie bent down to hug Dillon and Jane Ann. “You two help Trisha while I’m gone. Hear? And mind her.”

Addie hurried out the door before the children saw the mist in her eyes. Colin stood at the head of the sway-backed team.

“Ain’t ya wantin’ me to go with ya, Miss Addie?”

“I’d love to have you with me, but you’re needed here to take care of Trisha and the little ones. Get a handful of cracked corn and scatter it in the chickens’ pen, then pen them up. We’ll want to take some of them with us when we go.”

“Where we goin’?”

“I don’t know yet, but we’re leaving here as soon as I get back. You and Trisha can start getting things together.”

She was climbing up onto the wagon seat when John rode up the lane to the house. He came to the wagon, a look of irritation on his face.

“Where the hell are you going?”

A flush of color came to Addie’s cheeks and the light of battle to her eyes.

“To the Birdsalls’. Mr. Birdsall once offered to buy the farm.”

“I told you to wait here.”

“We can’t stay here. We’ve got to leave, with or without the money for the farm. The Renshaws will never rest until they get their revenge. They’ll hang Trisha”—Addie’s voice quivered—“and no one will lift a finger to help us.”

“I told you to stay near the house. You don’t take orders well, do you, Addie?” When she didn’t answer, he asked, “How far to the Birdsalls’?”

“A couple of miles. Maybe a little more.”

“Anyone been around?”

“We haven’t seen anyone.”

“The Renshaws are plenty riled. I figure they’ll sneak in here around midnight to get Trisha and to burn you out.”

The flat, unequivocal statement gave her a glimpse into the man’s character. He was not one to play with words. He said what had to be said straight out.

The bone-chilling fear that pierced Addie was as sharp as a knife. She took a shaky breath and tried not to let him see how frightened she was. She lifted her chin and reached for the reins, only to have them taken out of her hands and given to Colin.

“Unhitch the team, Colin. Feed and water them, and give them some grain. They’ll get a hard workout tonight. Tell Trisha to stay in the house and keep the little ones with her. Someone could be watching with a spyglass.”

Strong hands reached for Addie and grasped her about the waist. Before she realized what was happening, she was lifted from the wagon seat. When she recovered from her surprise, she found herself sitting in front of John on his horse, the man’s hard thighs cushioning her bottom, his arms around her as he turned the horse toward the road.

*  8  *

^“
W
hich way?” John asked when they reached the road.

It was a moment before she could collect herself, and even then she found it difficult to speak.

“To . . . the left.”

Never before had she ridden in this fashion, sitting on a man’s lap with his arms around her. When she and Kirby rode one of the work horses to the church to be married, she had sat behind him with her arms around
him.

“Take off that damn bonnet. It’s poking me in the eye.”

Without hesitation Addie pulled on the tie beneath her chin and removed the bonnet, even though she couldn’t see how the soft crown could be bothering him.

“That’s better. You have beautiful hair. It’s a shame you keep it twisted up in that knot.”

“I’m not a girl to . . . go about with my hair hanging down my back,” she said testily.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not a hussy, that’s why!”

“What’s not being a hussy got to do with it? I’ve seen hussies with hair pinned up so tight it squinted their eyes.”

She knew he was teasing her and refused to take the bait.

“Have you always been this serious, Addie?”

On hearing his softly spoken question, Addie was jolted by an instant flash of memory:
Playing hide and seek in the barn, running toward the creek, her hair loose and streaming out behind her; Kirby reaching for her, pulling her down onto the grassy bank.

No!
her mind screamed. She had not always had this heavy burden of responsibility on her shoulders. She had let her hair hang down and acted the fool over a man who had used her, then left her to chase his dream of adventure. She would not be so foolish again. Addie didn’t even pretend to herself that Kirby had gone to war to fight for a cause. He’d gone to get in on the excitement and to rid himself of her and their son.

Realizing that John was waiting for an answer to his question, and not knowing how to respond, Addie said the first thing that came to her mind:

“I’ve not given you permission to call me by my first name.”

He laughed.

Not only did she hear the soft chuckle, but she felt his movement against her upper arm and his warm breath on her neck. She was very aware that her buttocks were nestled in the V of his crotch and tried to keep her back stiff and her shoulders away from his chest. She looked down at the hands holding the reins. His fingers were long, the nails short and clean. Fine black hair covered the backs of his hands.

For some crazy reason she was having difficulty breathing, and her silly heart was beating as hard as if she had run a foot race.

“Turn right,” she said when they came to a wagon track that led up through a thick stand of cottonwood

The track passed through a thick grove. Overhead the sun shone bright in the green foliage. It was extremely quiet except for the
tunk, tunk
of the horse’s hooves on the deep-cushioned humus.

Caw! Caw!
A crow, flying above them, wheeled and dipped.
Caw! Caw!
it challenged them saucily. After the scolding from the crow, a concerted chorus of profanity came from a flock of bluejays in the treetops. Then it was quiet again until the song of a mountain thrush came from far away.

A doe with a fawn close to her flank ran out of the forest and on down the trail ahead of them, disappearing into the shelter of a thicket.

“I thought game would be hunted out this near to town.”

“This is Birdsall land. No one hunts on it but Birdsalls.”

“What kind of man is Birdsall, and how come he offered for your place?”

“He’s a far cut above the Renshaws—”

“That wouldn’t take much,” John said dryly.

“He was one of the first to settle in this area. My father came later and took up land next to his. Mr. Birdsall has two sons and wants a farm for each. And . . . he doesn’t want the Renshaws to have my land. One of his sons, the one who just came home from the war, had trouble with a Renshaw over mistreating a darkie. The Birdsall boys went to war because they didn’t like the idea of the Yankees coming down here and telling them what to do, not because they believed in slavery.”