Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (28 page)

“Yi, yi, yi. Before ya go ya must see my pets.”

Later, after they had said their goodbyes and were on the way back to the livery where the new wagon awaited, John said: “If you decided not to take your sheep, Addie, they would have a good home with Lupe. You can see how she dotes on hers.”

“I’ve been thinking about what to do with them. I don’t want them pulled down by wolves. What do you think I should do?”

“They’re your sheep. If you want to take them, we’ll try to drive them with the extra stock. But I must tell you, it will be hard on them. They probably won’t make it.”

They walked in silence. Addie didn’t speak until they had almost reached the livery.

“I’d rather Lupe have them than for them to die.”

“If that’s what you want, we’ll drop them off when we come this way tomorrow.”

A team of huge gray mules was hitched to the wagon. While John walked around the mules inspecting the harnesses, Addie waited beside the wheel and watched him. This wonderful man was her husband. It had all happened so fast that it was hard for her to believe it was real. She admired his patience and resourcefulness, his confidence. Just looking at him put a song in her heart.

Dear God, you have been so good to me that surely you have forgiven me for the things I said to Preacher Sikes.

This morning a nibbling on her ear and a large, callused hand cupping and caressing her breast had awakened her. Her back was pressed tightly to her husband’s warm naked chest. Her buttocks were nestled in the cradle made by his torso and thighs. She could feel the bold urgency of him.

When she stirred sleepily, he buried his face in the curve of her neck.

“Who is this pretty woman in my bed?”

“Who are you, sir? A
passerby
?” she answered sleepily and covered the hand on her breast.

“Nay, sweet lady. I’m Hawkeye, looking for damsels in distress.”

“Look no farther, my love.”

She turned, laughed against his face, and twisted her fingers in his hair. Wrapping her arms about his neck and sliding her legs between his, she lifted her mouth. His kisses were warm, devouring, fierce with passion. Her ragged breath was trapped inside her mouth by his lips. After long, hungry kisses, he lifted his head and looked into her face, his hand gentle at the back of her head.

“You’ve become very precious to me,” he whispered.

“I’ll be loyal and true, my Hawkeye, and love you . . . always.”

He made love to her slowly, kissing her temples, the curve of her cheeks, the corners of her mouth. He closed her eyes with gentle kisses. His large, firm sex was throbbing against the thigh pinned between his. Addie moved her hand down over the smooth flesh of his flat belly. Fingers that had lost their shyness closed around his erection. A low moan of pleasure came from his lips when she touched him, teasing his hardened flesh and then guiding him into her.

He had not expected this sweet willingness or the passion that lay slumbering behind Addie’s calm, beautiful face. As on the night before, she held back nothing from him, and he held back nothing from her. The swift honesty with which she offered herself delighted him. The gentle, reverent way he took what she offered delighted her.

Brought back from her daydreaming by the sound of horses approaching and a shout of laughter, Addie watched two horsemen, trotting side by side, approach the livery. She recognized them as the Yankee soldiers she had seen ride into town yesterday while she was looking out the hotel window.

The riders passed on the other side of the wagon without noticing her. Addie moved around the end of the wagon for a better look at the magnificent horses just as the soldiers dismounted. One of the horses was jittery and danced at the end of the reins. The Yankee began to speak to him, attempting to soothe him.

“Cool down, big fellow. Cool down . . .”

The voice and the words hit Addie like a dash of cold water. For a moment she was stunned.

“Now . . . now . . . cool down. You wantin’ me to rub you a little?”

A tingling sensation washed over her, as if she were being pricked by a thousand needles.

Cool down, little filly, cool down.
The voice and the words echoed in her mind. She had heard the words many times when she had nagged Kirby to help her do some chore that needed to be done.

The Yankee soldier’s back was to her. His blond hair was longer than Kirby’s and curled down to the collar of his blue Yankee uniform. She remembered Kirby as being smaller than this man. Yet, when she closed her eyes, the voice rang in her ears.

Was she going crazy? Kirby had not been a Yankee soldier; he had joined the Confederate Army.
Kirby was dead.
She had not heard his voice for four years. How could she think it was his?

When she opened her eyes, the Yankee soldiers had entered the livery and John was at her elbow to help her climb the wheel to the wagon seat.

“You all right, honey? Light hurting your eyes?”

Addie smiled. “Just a little,” she lied.

The Yankee soldiers came out of the livery as the big wagon moved away. Addie’s head was turned toward John, and she didn’t see the blond man pause to stare after them, his eyes hard, his fists clenched. His companion, a few steps ahead of him, turned.

“Coming, Kyle?”

“Of course I’m coming. Where did you think I was going?” he snapped.

“What in hell’s got into you? Do you know those folks?”

“The man in buckskins was in the hotel last night. I’m wondering if he’s the John Tallman the judge has been waiting for.”

“The freighter? Could be. He looks the part—big enough to whip a bear with a willow switch. Don’t worry, Captain, he’s not Miss Cindy’s type. Anyhow, he’s got a woman. She’s a little old for my taste, but I reckon she suits the freighter. It’s a long way across the territories. You’ll have plenty of time to court Miss Cindy.”

The blond man had heard only snatches of what his friend was saying. The last, however, caught his attention.

“Yes, I’ll have plenty of time,” he murmured, but his thoughts were not on Miss Cindy Read.

*  *  *

The spring seat with its high back made the return trip to camp more comfortable than Addie had thought possible. An hour before noon they neared the knoll where the freight wagons were parked.

Addie looked questioningly at John when he stopped the team and wound the reins around the brake.

“Come here, honey.” He slid his arm across her shoulders to pull her close. “You’ve been awfully quiet. Did I tire you out last night?”

Addie’s arms encircled his waist and she hugged him as if he were a stout log she clung to to prevent her being washed downriver by a flood. She didn’t dare tell him that the Yankee soldier back at the livery was so like Kirby that she had feared she was losing her mind until logic had forced her back to reality. Kirby would not have come back to life as a
Yankee,
even if such things were possible. He despised Yankees, or so he had said. Of course, long before he had left her she had come to realize that Kirby sometimes said whatever he thought someone wanted to hear—true or not.

“I’m anxious to see the children,” Addie murmured with her lips against John’s cheek. “But—I’ve loved every minute of the time we’ve had together.”

John kissed her gently, lovingly. “I’ve loved it too, Addie girl. We’ll not have much time to be alone from now on. I’ll be pretty busy getting you and the children and the freight wagons home. Kiss me again, then I’ll get these mules headed on down the road.”

He kissed her nose; she kissed his lips again and again. They sat looking at each other. She couldn’t keep from smiling. His dark eyes adored her. It was pure magic to be here with him, their arms around each other, their minds attuned.

“I’m acting like a callow youth who’s just discovered that girls are different from boys,” he confessed.

“I’m acting like a silly schoolgirl.”

Their soft laughter mingled as they shared one last kiss.

*  *  *

The camp seemed almost empty as they approached it. The cook and Paco stepped out from behind the cook wagon and waved. John drove on toward the tents, where Trisha stood waiting alone, her arms folded across her chest, a frown on her lovely face.

“Trisha!” Addie called before John stopped the wagon. “Is everything all right?” She began climbing down as soon as the wheels stopped rolling. Her heart began to thump painfully when she heard one of the children crying. “Trisha, what’s wrong?”

“I’m glad yore back, Miss Addie. It’s Dillon. I can’t do nothin’ with him. The turtle’s gone off, for one thin’.” Trisha’s golden eyes were sad. “And this mornin’ one of them ornery mules . . . kicked Bucket to death. Dillon and Jane Ann saw her hangin’ up an’ one a them Mexican fellers skinnin’ ’er out. Dillon run at ’im, kicked ’im, and hit ’im. He’s awful stirred up about it, and so’s Jane Ann.”

“Oh, my goodness!” Addie ducked into the tent.

“Anything else happen, Trisha? Were you and the children treated all right?” John asked.

“We was treated like we was tryin’ to ’scape on the underground railroad or somethin’. Them fellers watched so good, me and Jane Ann was afeared to go to the bushes.”

John grinned. “Is Buffer Simmons still here?”

“He lit out this mornin’. Cleared the air, if ya was to ask me.”

“Did he bother you?”

“Naw. He was a’right that way. Last night he cooked rabbit for the younguns. They thought it a lark.” Trisha eyed the wagon. “That what we goin’ in?”

“That’s it. I’ll unhitch the mules and leave it here. You and Addie put in the things you’ll need for the trip. The rest”—he gestured toward the pile of household things— “will be put in the other wagon.”

“Can we all sleep in thar?”

“Sure can. Addie’ll show you.”

She gave him a sideways glance. “You, too?”

“No. Addie and I will sleep
under
the wagon.” Leave it to Trisha, John thought, to get to the point. “Where’s Colin?”

“Down there with that Gregorio. He’s been showin’ Colin how to throw a rope over a fence post. Colin’s havin’ hisself a high old time.”

“He’s a different boy now that he’s out from under the threat of going to that bastard Renshaw. He can thank you for that, Trisha.”

“You done it.” Trisha tossed her head and looked away. “ ’Twarn’t nothin’ I done.”

“I’ve got a new, light rifle. As soon as we get strung out on the trail, I’ll teach you to shoot it and to hit what you shoot at.”

The girl’s golden eyes came alive. “Old brush-face is gonna teach me to throw a knife so I can kill a snake. You gonna show me how to shoot the gun. My, my, I gonna be one of them holy terrors if’n ya don’t watch out.”

John smiled. “You already are.”

Trisha smiled back. “I guess I is, if’n ya say so.”

Inside the tent, Addie sat on the mattress, holding Dillon on her lap and snuggling Jane Ann close to her side. The sobs of both children had turned to sniffles.

“It’s sad to lose Bucket, but we wouldn’t have wanted her to live with broken legs or a cracked head. She would be happy to know that you’ll have her warm coat. You can snuggle down on it and remember her.”

“That Paco said they’d . . . eat her.” Jane Ann began to cry again.

“We eat chickens that we’ve known. Remember the pig we fattened so that we’d have bacon and ham and lard?”

“But the pig didn’t have a . . . name.”

“She did to other pigs. Now dry your eyes and come see our new wagon. John bought new clothes and presents for everyone.”

Both children sat up and dried their eyes on their sleeves.

“Me too?” Jane Ann asked.

“Why, of course. You’re our little girl, aren’t you?”

*  *  *

It was evening. The tents had been taken down, the canvas rolled and stored. The new wagon was now home. They all climbed inside and Addie opened the bundles from the store. The children and Trisha were delighted with their new clothes. Shoes were tried on after Addie dug into her trunk and brought out a supply of new stockings she’d been planning to trade at the store. The gifts, she hid away until John could be there to present them.

When the other wagon was brought up to be loaded with the rest of Addie’s possessions, Colin sat beside the driver wearing his new shoes, duck pants, and straw hat. The new clothes seemed to imbue him with new pride. He no longer looked like the scared little boy he had been back at the farm.

The floor of the wagon had been waterproofed with tar and canvas. This time, with careful rearrangement of the things Addie had brought with her, there was space left over. It was quickly filled with a couple of spare wheels, buckets of tar to be used as lubricant, extra yokes, and a number of spare axles. A heavy tarp was spread over the load and tied securely to the sides of the wagon.

Gregorio explained in his broken English that strapped beneath each wagon was an extra tongue and that each wagon carried a water keg fastened on the side that would be filled at every watering place. There was also a chip sack hanging on a hook on the side of each wagon; this was filled with buffalo or cow chips collected during the day to be used for the evening campfire.

Shortly before dusk, Bill Wassall strolled down to the new wagon.

“Howdy, ma’am. This shore is a fine schooner. Don’t know as I ever saw a finer one.”

“Mr. Tallman was pleased to find it.”

“Well, if’n anybody knows what’ll go over the trail, it’s John. Ah . . . ma’am, I jist want ya to know I’m plumb sorry ’bout the other day. Me an’ the fellers was as surprised as all get-out. If—”

“Let’s forget about it, Mr. Wassall. I try never to look back and dwell on what’s over and done with.”

“I’m not wantin’ no hard feelin’s.”

“Let me assure you there are none.”

“I’m plumb relieved to hear it. Now, ma’am, there ain’t no use in you cookin’ tonight. Me an’ Paco got a big mess of catfish bakin’ in the pit. Paco stirred up a batch of tortillas and patted them out real thin like an’ they been cookin’ all day. Them Mexican fellers can shore chaw down on a pile of tortillas. Y’all come on up and hep us eat ’em.”