Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (22 page)

He turned his head slightly so that he could look at her. She wore the same blue dress as she had the day in town when he saw her for the first time. The morning sun was shining now on her light hair, which she had coiled and pinned to the nape of her neck. Her eyes were large and sad. The dark smudges beneath them only emphasized their brilliant color. She held a stiff-brimmed sunbonnet in her lap.

“Did you make a tracing of the children’s feet so we can buy them sturdy shoes?” John asked, hoping to keep her talking.

“Yes. And Trisha’s too. I tore a sheet from an old catalog, marked around each foot with a pencil and then cut out the shape. We can use the money I got from the farm to buy the shoes. I want you to keep half of what’s left after we pay for the wagon and the mules and the supplies we’ll need for the next few weeks.”

“The money you got from the farm is yours. I’ll buy what we’ll need for the trip.”

Addie turned her head slowly. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re my wife. I take care of what’s mine.”

“Like your horse? Your hat? Your freight train?” Her voice was strained.

“I didn’t mean that at all, Addie. If the time should come when we need to use some of your money, my pride won’t stand in the way. I’m hoping that you and I can work as a team for the good of our family.”

“I’m sorry if I sounded ungrateful.”

John slapped the reins against the horses’ backs and the wagon rolled down the road.

Addie met his look with unsmiling calm while a frantic uneasiness leaped within her. She felt as if she were in another world. So much had happened in such a short time. Her children and Trisha were back there with strangers. The man beside her was a stranger too. Could it be that less than a week had passed since she had first set eyes on him? Yet, he was her husband and would expect to sleep with her tonight, touch her private places.

A woman is duty-bound to comfort her husband when and
where he needs it.
Kirby had said that.

Would this man be rough or gentle with her? Gentle, as Kirby had been at first, or rough, as Kirby had been after they were wed?

She turned and found John looking at her.

“Are you worrying about tonight, Addie?”

Lordy! Can he read my mind?
She tried to look away from him, but his dark eyes held hers. She opened her mouth to deny it, but nothing came out. She couldn’t lie to him.

“It’s . . . been a long time.”

“I want babies from you, Addie. But I’ll not force myself on you to get them.”

She tore her eyes from his and looked straight ahead. “I’m willing to . . . ah, do what’s expected.”

“You’ll do your duty? Is that what you mean?” When she didn’t answer, he asked: “Did you love Kirby Hyde?”

“You asked me that once before.”

“And you didn’t answer me.”

“I won’t answer you now, either. It’s none of your business.”

“Everything about you is my business, Addie. But I won’t press the point. We’ve got a lifetime to spend together. I want to know what you want, and I’ll give it to you if I can. I want to share the good times with you as well as the bad.”
I want us to be like my mother and father.
When she comes into a room the first thing she looks for is
my father. Their eyes speak to each other. They think and
act as one.

After an uneasy silence, Addie asked, “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me about your parents.”

The tension eased as Addie talked of how her mother and father had met when they had been taken in by a farmer in Tennessee to work for their board, much the same as Colin and Jane Ann had done. Both sets of parents had died; Addie didn’t exactly know what had caused their deaths. When her father was sixteen, he decided to leave and make his own way. He took her mother with him. They found her mother’s brother with another family, and he went with them. They were little more than children when they married. Although life was hard for them, they eventually made their way to Arkansas and took up land.

“Were you the only child they had?”

“They had two before me who died just days after they were born and one after me who lived one year.”

“Did you take in Colin and his sister because your parents had been orphans?”

“Maybe at first. Then I came to love them. They needed me,” she said almost defensively.

The midmorning sun was hot. Addie fanned her face with the stiff brim of her bonnet. When they came to a small, clear stream, they paused to let the team drink. John jumped down from the wagon and reached for Addie. When she placed her hands on his shoulders, he grasped her waist and easily swung her to the ground.

“Stretch your legs. I’ll get you a drink.”

When he returned from the stream with a tin cup of water, she drank thirstily, looking curiously at the round cup. It was made of circles of tin that telescoped one into the other when closed.

“I’ve never seen a cup like this.”

“I got it in Saint Louis.” He pushed on the top and bottom. The cup collapsed. “It folds to about an inch high. Easy to put in your pocket or saddlebag.”

“Better not let Dillon see it.” Addie’s violet eyes were full of laughter when they looked into his. “He’ll wear it out, stretching it out and folding it up.”

“That’s good to know. If a time comes when I want to keep him quiet, I’ll bring out the cup.” The look in his smiling eyes was one of conspiracy.

His smile made Addie’s heart flutter. She drew the tip of her tongue across her lips and saw his eyes move to her mouth. Being with him and drinking from the same cup as he made her feel mixed up and shaky inside. It felt different to be alone with him out here on this lonely road. He did not seem so stone-faced. He was warmer, friendlier. She wondered if he felt the same about her.

“How much farther?”

“Another hour.” He glanced at the sun. “We’ll eat at a restaurant there.”

He stood looking down at her, his long body relaxed, neither anxious to leave nor indifferent. While he waited for her to speak, time and space seemed to shrink to the small quiet place by the stream.

“I’ll be hungry by then.”

“I’ve never seen anyone with eyes the color of yours. Did you know they reflect your every mood?”

“I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Why are they so sad now?” His tone was soft, intimate. She thought that he was teasing, but he was not smiling.

She turned away, letting her glance move up and down the sparkling stream. She knew she must speak, and speak casually. When she looked back at him, he was watching her so intently that she quickly dropped her eyes. A strange feeling washed over her, as if she lacked breath.

“I don’t know why they look sad. I’m not really sad.” She paused. “Well, maybe a little.” She tilted her head to look at him because he had moved a step closer. “Are you ever sad?”

“Sometimes. I also get tired, hungry, angry, lonely, and scared, the same as you.”

“
You
get scared?” she scoffed, wishing that she were less conscious of his nearness.

“Of course. Only a fool isn’t scared at one time or another. You’ve been scared many times, haven’t you?”

“Yes. I was scared the night you came to the farm and ran off those drunken coots! Why did you?”

He stroked his mustache with his forefinger and gave her a leering look.

“Maybe I had plans to
ravish
you myself. Grrrrr . . .” He snapped his teeth together, imitating a hungry wolf.

Addie’s expression changed instantly from one of solemn concentration to one of surprise and then to delight. She almost choked on the happy giggle that bubbled up inside her.

“Mr. Tallman! John!” Her laugh rang out. “If you’re trying to scare me, it isn’t working! Ohhh!” she shrieked as he swept her up in his arms as if she were a child.

“You’d better be scared,” he said, and swung her toward the rushing water. “I could drop you right here in the middle of the stream.”

“Oh . . . oh, don’t—” She grabbed him about the neck.

“If you’re properly scared, I’ll set you in the wagon.”

“As much as I’d love to have a bath, I’m scared of that cold water!” He carried her to the side of the wagon. “And I’m scared because I’ve never been held like this. Goodness! Put me down. I’m too heavy.”

“Heavy, my foot,” John said, and set her down on the seat. “You weigh about as much as a sack of feed.”

He climbed up the wheel, took his place beside her, and put the team in motion. They splashed across the rocky creek bed and up the bank to the road.

“It isn’t very flattering to be compared to a sack of feed.” She sniffed in mock disdain, suddenly afraid that she was acting like a witless fool.

“I would have said a sack of potatoes, but they’re lumpy. You’re . . . soft.”

Addie couldn’t keep from looking at him. She had never before seen his face so creased with smiles. There were laugh lines at the corners of dark blue eyes which were shining with amusement. They looked at each other, and Addie’s soft giggles mingled with John’s deeper, hearty chuckles.

*  *  *

The town of Van Buren lay listlessly in the noonday sun. It seemed to Addie larger than Freepoint and much older. Lying on the bank of the Arkansas River across from Fort Smith, Van Buren was the jumping-off place for freight wagons, settlers, and army regiments going into or across the Indian Nations.

Enjoying their easy camaraderie, John told Addie a little about the town as they approached it.

“Thomas Martin, a friend of my father’s, came to this place on the Arkansas in 1818 and established a trading post. As settlers came in, a village called Phillips Landing was formed because a man named Phillips had bought up a big chunk of land. Later on the name of the town was changed to Van Buren, for the president.”

“Are you known here?”

“Some. Back in the twenties my parents settled about a hundred miles north of here. It’s where I was born and grew up. We came here about twice a year for supplies.”

“It’s hillier than I expected.”

“This is hilly country. The stores here are good, but for the amount of supplies we need back home we have to go to Saint Louis. The eating places and the hotels are fair; the saloons very good.” He grinned at her.

“Of course you would know that!” she said sassily.

John could not recall when he had enjoyed himself more. Time seemed to have flown by since they’d left camp, but in reality they had been on the road almost half a day. Addie Tallman—he never wanted the name Hyde associated with her again—was a delight. She was not only pretty but smart. She had a quick wit and a wonderful sense of humor. She was also a “ring-tailed tooter” when she was mad. He chuckled when he thought of the tongue-lashing she had given the preacher.

“What are you laughing at?” Addie tilted her head to see his face.

“You might be mad if I told you.” He couldn’t stop grinning.

“Now you’ve got me curious. You’d better tell me or I’ll think the worst.”

“I was thinking of you standing in the lane stamping your foot and shouting every swear word you’d ever heard at the preacher.” Laughter rumbled up out of his chest. “After seeing that, I don’t plan on getting you mad in front of anyone.”

Addie’s face turned fiery red. “I can’t even remember what I said. Trisha said it was things she’d not heard me say before. I was
so
mad! Why, the idea of that . . . old stinkpot thinking he’d give Colin to that rotten old Renshaw skunk! Course, I didn’t know then that he was going to try to get Dillon too. I’d . . . I’d’ve shot his ugly head off before I gave him my boys!”

“Calm down, honey. I didn’t mean to get you riled up again.”

As the word of endearment seeped into her senses, she felt a wonderful warm glow of belonging—a feeling of security. She glanced at him and suddenly realized that his head was in constant motion, turning this way and that, but so slowly that the movement was almost imperceptible. He was an extremely alert man, she realized, and beneath his calm manner lay something as inflexible as a stout ax handle.

“Do you think the magistrate has sent word here to arrest Trisha for shooting Ellis Renshaw?”

“If he has, we’ll find out about it. Don’t borrow trouble. I promise you, we’ll take Trisha with us to New Mexico.”

He stopped the wagon at the open doors of the livery.

“Howdy, Tallman.” The liveryman had a long white beard and wore the gray hat of the Confederacy. He gazed curiously at Addie as John helped her down from the wagon seat. “Have a good trip to Saint Louie?”

“Sure did. Take care of the team and wagon, Wally. I’ll be back in a little while.”

John took Addie’s arm as they walked toward the main street of the town, leaving the old man to stare after them before he turned to look curiously at the rickety wagon and the ancient team. He shook his head in wonder that John Tallman would come to town in such an outfit.

“After we eat,” John said as they reached the boardwalk, “I’ll take you to the hotel so you can rest while I see about getting us a prairie schooner.” He hugged her arm close to his side and smiled down at her proudly.

*  *  *

Addie stood at the window in the hotel room and looked down on the street. She was too nervous to rest. Never in her life, unless she was sick, had she rested in the middle of the day. She looked around the room. This was only the second time she had been in a hotel. The room was pretty much like the one she and John had been married in—iron bedstead, washstand, china pitcher and bowl, a table with an oil lamp. Her bonnet hung on the knob of the one chair and the drawstring cloth bag holding her nightdress, comb, brush, wash cloth, and towel was on the seat.

She avoided looking at the bed. It seemed terribly narrow. She tried not to think about her husband’s large frame stretched out on one side of it, hers on the other. Instead she thought about how special she had felt when he had ushered her into the restaurant, held her chair for her to be seated, then ordered their meals.

A small voice inside her reminded her that Kirby, too, had been attentive. But that was before they had wed. This was different, her logical mind argued. She and John were already married. There was no need for him to court her. He already had the legal right to share her bed.