Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (13 page)

“My horse. There’s another stallion here.”

Addie glanced back at John’s horse, tied to the tailgate. His ears were up, his nostrils flared, and he was uttering little snorting sounds.

“Oh, I shouldn’t’ve left them!” Addie’s eyes searched the house for a sign of Trisha or the children. The front door was closed and not even a chicken stirred in the yard.

John said not a word as he hurried the mules up the lane and around to the back of the house. Addie’s heart was pounding with fear and dread. The first thing she saw was a big spotted horse tied to a rail beside the watering tank. Then she saw Colin and a bearded man sitting on the edge of the porch. Colin had a spyglass in his hand. John cursed, stopped the mules, and tied the reins to the brake handle. Addie climbed down over the wheel before he could get around to help her and hurried toward the porch.

“Is everything all right?” she asked. Some of her anxiety left her when she saw the smile on Colin’s face.

“Remember Mr. Simmons, Miss Addie? He’s been lettin’ me look through his spyglass.” Addie glanced at the closed door. “Trisha won’t come out.”

“At least
she
can obey orders.” John had come up behind Addie. “What are you doin’ here, Simmons?”

“Howdy, Tallman.” The bearded giant grinned. He was as tall as John, and much heavier. “Just passin’ by.”

“Like hell. I saw your horse’s prints on that knoll up there. You’ve been watching with that spyglass.”

“By Jupiter, you’re better’n I thought. Heard ya could track a bird through the sky but didn’t believe it.”

“It wasn’t hard. Not many horses wear that size shoe. If you plan to do much sneaking around you better get another horse.”

Simmons acknowledged that with a tilt of his head and a grin.

Colin, watching both men, had an uneasy look on his face.

“Good day to you,” John said by way of dismissal. And although he took Addie’s elbow as she stepped up onto the porch, his eyes never left the other man.

“You takin’ over here, Tallman?” Simmons asked.

“You might say that. I’m marrying Miss Addie.” As John spoke he squeezed Addie’s elbow. Hard.

“If that’s the way the wind blows, I’d like a private word with ya.”

“Wait over by your horse. I’ll be right out.” John opened the back door and pushed Addie in ahead of him before she could sputter a protest.

“Why did you tell him that?” she whispered angrily.

“Use your head. You’ll not be hassled by men like him if he thinks you’ve got protection.”

“But—”

“We’ve no time to argue.” He grasped her shoulders. “You and Trisha pack up what you’ll need. Cooking pots, food, bedding, and clothing first. Then we’ll see how much room is left for other things. We’re leaving here in two hours, so don’t waste time.”

When he went out, he left the door open. Addie turned and saw Trisha and the young children standing in the corner behind the packed washtubs. It was then that she noticed the kitchen had been stripped of almost everything but the furniture.

She blinked the tears from her eyes.

*  9  *

J
ohn didn’t know much about Jerr Simmons, the man known as Buffer. He hadn’t heard anything bad about the man, but then he hadn’t heard anything good, either.

Only this morning he had discovered that someone had been watching the house. The prints were deep, which meant that that someone was a big man on a big horse. When he saw Simmons and the spyglass, it had not been hard to put two and two together. He didn’t have much respect for a man who would hide out and spy on women.

“Colin,” he called when he saw the boy talking to Simmons. “Miss Addie needs help.”

“ ’Bye, Mr. Simmons. Thanks for lettin’ me look in your spyglass.” Colin gave John a worried, puzzled glance as he ran past him.

“Well, Simmons, what were you doing? Picking the boy for information about the women?”

“Yeah,” Simmons admitted. “But didn’t get much. Kid’s as closed-mouthed as a snappin’ turtle.”

“Say what you’ve got to say. I have things to do.”

“Why’d ya say ya was marryin’ that woman? She ’peared surprised to hear the news.”

“Not that it’s any business of yours, but I am going to marry her. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

Buffer Simmons chuckled. “Figured ya fer a man who took what he wanted.”

“I don’t
take
a woman unless she wants to be taken!”

“Meant no offense to ya . . . or the lady. C’mon. I got somethin’ ta show ya.”

John followed the man into the barn and on through to the back. When he stepped out the back door he saw Buffer standing, hands on his hips, grinning.

“Found me a little ol’ dried-up turd.”

The man sitting on the ground in a pile of cow manure was short, wiry, and had almost as much hair on his face as on his head. His feet were securely bound, a gag was in his mouth, and his hands, wrists tied together, were pulled up and fastened to a branch over his head. Judging by the softness of the cowpiles he sat in, the cow had just recently been chased from her favorite shade.

Hard, watery blue eyes glared at John and then at Buffer from beneath sparse, straw-colored hair.

“Purty, ain’t he?”

“Looks like a pile of shit to me,” John said dryly. “Where’d you find him?”

“Sneakin’ ’round with a rifle. Saw him through my spyglass. Knew ya wasn’t here ’cause I saw you ride off with Miss Addie. Figured I’d better see what he was up to.”

“He’s a Renshaw.”

“Yeah. Shot off his mouth aplenty ’fore I stuffed it with that rag. Course, I had to wipe the cow shit off my boots with it first.” Clearly, Simmons was enjoying himself.

John picked up the rifle that leaned against the side of the barn, jacked out the shells, then grasped the barrel and swung it against the tree trunk with such force that the stock splintered; the firing mechanism broke and fell off.

The man on the ground kicked his feet in rage. They slid back and forth in the soft manure. Grunts of fury came from behind the gag.

“You son of a bitch,” John snarled. “I ought to kick your teeth out. Simmons was easier on you than I’d have been. I’d’ve hung you up by your thumbs after I took some skin off your back. When your kinfolk find you, tell them that if they come looking for the women here, I’ll get them . . . one by one . . . in the back . . . when they least expect it.”

It was John’s intention to intimidate, and he succeeded. The man’s face turned a chalky white. He watched fearfully as John threw the broken rifle far out into the barn lot and went back into the barn.

“Does the boy know about him?” he asked as soon as Buffer entered the barn.

“No. Didn’t see no need to tell him.”

“What did Renshaw tell you?”

“That he was gunnin’ for the wench who crippled his cousin.”

“That’s about the truth of it. She crippled him. He’ll not plow another field. Probably not straddle another horse.”

“I heard about them Renshaws in town. There’s a whole passel of ’em. Some of ’em are meaner than a peed-on snake. They’ll be comin’ with blood in their eye.”

“Yeah.”

“Ya need help loadin’ that big wagon? The boy’s gathered up the tools, ropes, and harnesses.”

“You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you?”

“Yeah. Renshaw spilled his guts. His cousin wanted the boy; the girl shot him. The clan’ll be here to burn ’em out, so you’re gettin’ ’em outa here. I figure that’s a tall order fer one man. Two could handle it jist fine.”

John eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want out of it?” When the giant shrugged, John said: “You’re out of your territory, Simmons. Last I heard, you and a Kiowa woman were shacked up down on Wolfe Creek.”

“Didn’t know I was so famous that a Tallman would be keepin’ tabs on me.”

“What brought you here?”

“Same as what brought you, I’m thinkin’.”

“That is?”

“Waiting for Van Winkle. I signed on to hunt for his party.”

“Hell!”

“You scoutin’ for him?”

“He’s following my outfit across the territories. If you’ve signed on with him, he doesn’t need me.”

“Tell it to Van Winkle.”

“I’ll do that.” John untied his horse, led him to the watering tank, then exchanged the bridle for a halter and staked him in a patch of grass.

When he returned, Buffer had unharnessed the mules and was leading them to the tank. John went into the house. Everyone was working. Addie had given Dillon and Jane Ann each a pillow slip to hold their clothes. Trisha and Colin were bringing food up from the cellar. Nodding his approval, John went into a bedroom and came out with a straw mattress, which he carried to the wagon. He then returned for the other mattress and a feather bed that he was sure Addie would not want to leave behind.

Buffer brought the essentials from the barn. He seemed to know what to take and what to leave. He worked quickly, as if this was something he had done before, and he came to the porch when called and helped John carry the trunk and the walnut chest to the wagon.

“We’ll take all this out later and rearrange it,” John promised when he saw Addie’s worried look. Her spinning wheel was perched on top of a tub full of utensils. “We’ll have to travel all night, Addie,” John said as he arranged the mattresses. “We need to make a place for the little ones to sleep tonight.”

“My sheep can ride in the other wagon.”

John jumped down off the wagon and looked at her as if she had suddenly sprouted horns in the middle of her forehead.

“Did you say what I thought you said?”

“You did, if you thought I said my sheep can ride in the other wagon.”

“Addie, you are
not
taking those sheep!”

“Yes, I am. They are my sheep; this is my wagon.”

“You can buy more sheep where you’re going.”

“Not this kind of sheep. It took me years to get my hands on this pair of merinos. They will ride in the back of the wagon with the tools and other things. We’ll put some straw in so they can lie down.”

“Addie, be reasonable. We’re going to travel all night and all day tomorrow. We’ve got to get away from here as fast as possible. My men are waiting over near Van Buren with my freight wagons. If we can get to them before the Renshaws catch us, a whole battalion of Renshaws, or lawmen for that matter, will not take Colin or Trisha.” He spoke in a conversational tone meant to calm her.

“Please, John.” She placed her hand on his arm and looked beseechingly into his eyes. It was the first time she had said his name aloud or voluntarily touched him. “I can make a living for me and my family with these sheep.”

“Addie, you don’t have to do that. I’ll take care of you, and the children, and Trisha.”

“No!” She removed her hand as if his arm were hot. “We’re not beggars. I’m grateful for what you’re doing now, and I hope that someday I can repay you. I’ll use the money from Mr. Birdsall to buy a little place, and with the wool from the sheep, I can do what I’ve been doing for the past few years—sell my knit goods.”

A flood of tenderness for the spunky woman washed over him. Her eyes pleaded for understanding. He lifted his fingers and smoothed a strand of hair back over her ear. His brain pounded with a million vague thoughts he couldn’t voice.

He turned away and yelled at Buffer Simmons: “Fork some straw in the back of Colin’s wagon and load the sheep.”

Addie walked through the house one last time. She trailed her fingers over the kitchen table, the back of the rocking chair, the foot of the iron bedstead. Her humpbacked trunk was no longer at the foot of the bed; she had filled it with bedding and keepsakes, including her mother’s clock, her parents’ wedding picture, and the ivory-handled comb, brush, and mirror set they had given her the year before they died. John had carried the trunk to the wagon.

She was taking two kitchen chairs and leaving four for the Birdsalls. The table, with the deep gouge Dillon had made with the butcher knife, the stove, and the workbench were all that remained. Cloris wouldn’t know that one side of the oven was hotter than the other and that the long stovepipe going up through the roof had come down a few times, scattering soot all over the kitchen.

Goodbye, house. Within your protecting walls I spent my
childhood, grieved for my parents, conceived and gave birth
to my son. I’ll never forget the way you sheltered me that
cold, rainy night. You’ve shared my joys and my sorrows.
Now it’s time for me to move on.

“Addie,” John said from the doorway.

She turned quickly, her violet eyes bright with tears.

“We’re ready to go.”

She lifted her head with fierce determination. “Then let’s get started.”

John closed the door behind her, walked beside her to the wagon, and helped her up onto the seat. He went around checking the tarp he had tied over the back half of the high-piled wagon bed. Dillon and Jane Ann were in the nest he had made behind the wagon seat. They were so excited they could barely contain themselves.

Wearing a brown linsey dress and a dark sunbonnet, Trisha sat beside Colin on the seat of the second wagon. She had worked harder than any of them, and during that time she had uttered scarcely a word. That she didn’t like or trust Buffer Simmons was evident. She neither looked at, spoke to, nor acknowledged him.

Buffer mounted his horse and moved up to where John was tying his stallion to the back of the mule-drawn wagon.

“I’ll hang ’round. I don’t figure they’ll come straight on. They’ll sneak in and find Cousin. That’ll take some time.”

“These wagons’ll be easy to track.”

“Hellfire! If the rest of ’em is dumb as their cousin, they ain’t got nothin’ but clabber for brains. They’ll forget ’bout the wagons and take out after me. Cousin’ll be wantin’ a piece a my hide, and I’ll show ’em jist enough of it to keep ’im comin’. ’Fore they know which end is up, they’ll be halfway to Little Rock.”

“Do what you can and I’ll be obliged.”

Buffer Simmons turned his horse and rode the few yards to where Trisha sat beside Colin. He stopped the horse and tipped his hat.

“Ya ain’t to worry none, Miss Trisha. Them Renshaws ain’t gonna catch up with ya. Tallman knows what he’s a-doin’. I’ll be a-catchin’ up tomorry sometime.”