Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (16 page)

“Or it could be the other way around. Are you thinking you might meet another man and wish to be rid of me?”

“No. I’m just trying to tell you that you don’t have to marry me in order to fill your house with the children.”

“You’d sleep with me out of wedlock?”

“No! I meant Dillon, Jane Ann, and . . . Colin.”

“I’ll consider them mine. They’ll carry my name. But I want other children too, and I don’t intend for them to be
bastards.
” His tone was abrupt, almost angry.

Once again Addie was shocked into silence.

“Is the thought of being with me . . . like that . . . repulsive to you?” When she didn’t answer, he added: “I don’t intend to jump on you the minute the vows are spoken.” Silence. “And I don’t intend to have
two
unattached women on that train. Trisha will be trouble enough.”

Addie thought of what he had said for a long while before she spoke.

“When do you need an answer?”

“By daylight. There’s a town of sorts ahead. They’ll have a church and a preacher.”

He appeared to ignore her after that. Tired, and too numb to think, Addie sat hunched on the seat and tried not to cry. She was fully aware of how fortunate she and the children were to have a man like John looking after them. She blamed her need to weep on the fact that she required time to adjust to the drastic turn her life had suddenly taken.

The moon was directly overhead when they stopped the second time to rest the teams. John shouted to Colin to pull up. When both wagons had stopped, John jumped down and took the buckets to the stream. Addie and Trisha wiped the sweaty horses and mules down with the tow-sacks. After both teams were watered, John and Colin carried water to Victor and the sheep.

“Muvver . . .”

Before Addie reached the wagon, John was there.

“What are you doing awake, tadpole?”

“Gotta go!”

“Again? C’mon.” As he lifted Dillon out of the wagon, the child wrapped his arms around John’s neck. “You must have drunk a tank of water today,” he said as he walked off into the darkness carrying the little boy.

Addie felt a queer stirring in her heart at the sight of her child in John’s arms.

“Mama—”

“Do you have to go too, Jane Ann?” Addie asked.

“I’m cold. This ain’t fun no more. I want my bed . . . with Trisha.”

Trisha climbed up on the wagon. “Trisha’s here. I’ll get more cover for my purty sugarplum. Ya lay down and sleep. Tomorry, ya can sit with me an’ I’ll tell ya ’bout a princess name of Jane Ann.” Trisha put a quilt over the child and tucked it around her.

She climbed down off the wagon just as John returned with Dillon nestled in his arms, the child’s head on his shoulder. He laid Dillon beside Jane Ann and covered him.

“There’s room there for Colin. He should get some sleep,” Addie said. “I’ll take over the team for a while.”

Colin started to protest but stopped when John spoke up.

“She’s right, son. You’re going to need all your strength tomorrow. A man takes his rest when he can. Climb up there and snuggle down by Dillon. You needn’t worry he’ll wet on you. He just emptied out enough to raise the creek.”

Addie didn’t realize that John was behind her until she put her foot on the spoke of the wheel to pull herself up onto the seat. He took her hand, then continued to hold it tightly after she was seated. His grip was warm and hard. She felt a strange and unexpected sense of being cherished, and her throat constricted.

“Would you rather follow?”

“It . . . doesn’t matter.”

“If you need me, just pull up and stop.” He squeezed her hand, then let it go. She loosened the reins from the brake handle. “You’ve got a good partner riding shotgun,” he said as Trisha seated herself and picked up the rifle.

Addie looked at him then and saw the flash of white teeth beneath his dark mustache.
The future will be good,
she thought.
I’ll make it be good. He may not love me, but he’ll
not go off and leave me as Kirby did.

*  11  *

T
he wagons slowed to allow the teams to walk up the long grade to the town that lay quiet in the morning sun. At the hitching rail in front of the saloon were two horses; at the mercantile, a wagon and team.

Addie, on the seat beside Colin, tried to poke the strands of loose hair into the knot at the back of her neck and then smooth some of the wrinkles out of her skirt. At the last rest stop Colin had insisted on driving so that Addie or Trisha could get some sleep. Trisha had gone reluctantly to lie beside Dillon and Jane Ann.

During their time together, Addie had explained their situation and told Trisha that she was considering marrying Mr. Tallman and going with him to his ranch in New Mexico. At first the girl was adamant in her objection to Addie’s marrying the “passerby” in order to save her from the Renshaws. But then Addie had explained that Ellis Renshaw had filed a legal claim to Colin and that Preacher Sikes was going to try to make Dillon a ward of the church because he considered her an unfit mother.

“Trisha, it will be a long, dangerous journey.”

“I ain’t carin’ ’bout that. I’m goin’ where yo’re goin’.
^”

“You think it’s the right thing to do?”

“I don’t see no other way out, Miss Addie.”

Addie put her hand in the small of her back and blinked her dry, dust-rimmed eyes. She could remember only one other night that she hadn’t slept at least a little while, and that was the night her parents hadn’t come home and the next day their bodies had been found downstream.

When John whistled, Colin stopped the team on the edge of town near a livery where a watering tank was being filled with a hand pump. After motioning for them to sit still, John walked over and spoke to the man for a few minutes, then he came back to the wagons.

“I’ve made arrangements for the teams to be watered and fed.” John held his hand up to help Addie down. “The liveryman didn’t want anything to do with the sheep”—he smiled—“but we’ll take care of them later.”

Addie stumbled while climbing down. John caught her around the waist and eased her to the ground.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.” He seemed in amazingly good spirits for a man who had passed the night without a wink of sleep. “There’s an outhouse for you ladies over there.” He pointed to a plank building. “Dillon, Colin, and I will go behind the livery. We’ll meet you back here.”

Trisha had climbed down off the wagon when John reached it. He helped Jane Ann down, then Dillon. He took the boy’s hand and walked toward the livery.

“Dillon’s sure took to that passerby, Miss Addie.”

Trisha had put on her bonnet and tied the strings beneath her chin. Addie had let hers hang on her back. John and the boys were waiting when they returned to the wagon.

“We’ve only an hour and we have lots to do.” John pulled a bag from inside his shirt and handed Colin some money. “Addie and I have some business to attend to. While we’re doing it, take Trisha and the children to the mercantile. Trisha, pick out some food to eat on the way: raisins, dried peaches, cheese if they have it, and candy sticks.”

“I have money . . .” Addie started to climb up onto the wagon to look for the tobacco can that held the money from Mr. Birdsall, but then she felt two hands at her waist and was lifted aside.

“Not now, Addie.”

“Oh, but—”

“Shhh . . . Isn’t that what you say to Jane Ann when you want to hush her up?” His hands were still at her waist, and his eyes held hers.

They are blue, not black.
The thought came to Addie’s mind as if it were of great importance. He continued to look at her, and both of them knew what he wanted to know but didn’t want to ask in front of the others. After a moment, she nodded.

His eyes narrowed and his brows raised. His mouth worked and the word that came out on a breath was, “Sure?”

She nodded again.

He took a gulp of air as if he had been holding his breath. His hand moved to hers and held it tightly.

“If you get back here before we do, Colin—and I’m sure you will—let the sheep down to graze awhile.”

“Can I go with ya?” Dillon tugged on John’s hand.

John put his free hand on the boy’s head. “Not this time, tadpole. Go with Colin and Trisha.”

Addie walked with John down the dusty road. When he realized she was taking two steps to his one, he slowed his pace.

“Where are we going?”

“To the hotel. The liveryman said there’s a judge staying there. He can marry us. It’s either him or the magistrate, and if this one is anything like the one in Freepoint, I’d rather have the judge.”

“Why are you in such a hurry? We could be married in Fort Smith or—”

“We’ll not be going to Fort Smith. And I want us to be married before we meet my men.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to introduce you as my wife.”
Or before
you change your mind.

“I’m not dressed for a wedding,” Addie protested. “My face is dirty and—”

“I’ll ask at the hotel for a place for you to wash and comb your hair while I talk to the judge. And, Addie, don’t screw your hair up in a tight wad on your head. Put it in a loose braid and let it hang down your back.”

“Why, I never!” she sputtered.

“I know you never, but do it for me. It’ll be your wedding present to me.”

They stepped up onto the porch of the hotel and entered through the bat-wing doors. The man at the desk looked up from his ledger. His mouth formed an O. The big black-haired man in buckskins was an intimidating figure; his hair hung to his shoulders, and his naturally dark face was darker with several days’ growth of whiskers. But it was the man’s eyes and attitude that caused the clerk to jump to his feet.

The woman looked pale and tired. She had a dirt streak on her face, and strands of hair had come loose from the knot and hung down over her shoulders. She had magnificent violet-colored eyes, but they looked flat and bloodshot.

The clerk took all this in at a glance because when the man spoke, he demanded attention.

“Judge Carlson. What room is he in?”

“Why . . . ah . . . number two. Right down the hall.”

“I want a room where this lady can have some privacy for a few minutes.”

“Yes, sir. Right this way. Room number one.”

They followed the clerk to the end of the lobby and into a short, narrow hallway. He opened a door and stood aside. Addie and John went into the room, which held a bed, a chair, and a washstand.

“I’ll knock on the door in a few minutes,” John said. He looked as if he would say more, but after glancing at the clerk, who was watching with undisguised curiosity, he squeezed her arm and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Addie groaned aloud when she saw her image in the small cracked mirror that hung above the washstand. She looked far worse than she had thought. Leaning forward for a closer look, she could see why her eyes felt so scratchy. A film of dirt covered her face and had settled in the corners of her eyes. After pouring water from the pitcher into the bowl, she wet the end of a towel and held it to her face.

Oh, my. It feels so good.

Trying not to think about what lay ahead, she rolled her sleeves up to her elbows and washed her face, neck, and arms as best she could without soap, then took the pins from her hair and put them in her pocket as she pulled out the piece of comb she carried. Remembering John’s request that she let down her hair, she smoothed the tangles with the comb and braided it in one long rope. She was holding the end, wondering what to tie it with, when she heard John’s knock.

He stepped eagerly into the room as soon as she opened the door. He had removed his hat and was carrying it under his arm. Without a word, he took his knife from its scabbard and sliced a thin strip from the end of his doeskin shirt. He replaced the knife, then carefully tied the strip around the end of her braid.

Addie felt her heart thumping like a wild thing in her breast, and a shudder rippled under her skin. She raised gold-tipped lashes and immediately became lost in the narrowed pools of his dark blue eyes. He was so tall, his shoulders so broad that she felt that if she leaned against him she would be protected from the world. For an endless moment their eyes held, their faces so close that his breath was warm on her damp face.

“You won’t be sorry, Addie. I’ll do my best to see that you’re not sorry you married me.”

“You’re the one who may be sorry—”

“No, I won’t. When you get to know me better, you’ll find out that I don’t act on impulse, especially about something as important as this.”

“You should wait until you get to know me. The children . . . you may hate having them in your home.”

For a fleeting moment this morning he had felt that she was with him, that she felt as he did, that she responded to him. Now he felt tied up inside. Words did not come easily to him when he felt most deeply, and somehow he always found himself saying the things that meant nothing, leaving unsaid all the things he wanted to say.

He wanted to speak his heart now but found himself wordless when he looked into her eyes. There was much that was fine in her—the way she carried herself, the lift of her chin, the curve of her lips when she smiled. The way she had come through the last twenty-four hours had convinced him more than ever that she was the woman he wanted.

“Judge Carlson will be here in a few minutes. I need to wash before he gets here. I have ten pounds of dirt on my face.”

He moved away from her and went to the washstand. On the way he hung his hat on the bedpost. Addie had poured the water she had used into the slop jar. John filled the basin, cupped his hands in the fresh water and splashed his face and neck. While drying his face with a towel from the rack, he looked intently at Addie.

This woman will be my woman to love and to cherish until
death us do part.
The thought filled his mind with gladness. He had no doubt that once they were married she would be a loyal wife; and maybe, just maybe, she would become fond of him, perhaps even love him as his grandmother had loved the first John Spotted Elk and as his mother loved his father. Then he dismissed the idea immediately. It was too soon even to contemplate such a miracle.