Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 01] (23 page)

A fur trapper dropped off a bundle from Simon’s storehouse. Berry and Rachel went through the pack and exclaimed delightedly over the dress goods, hairpins, stockings, slippers, ribbons, and sweet-smelling soap. There was even a glass mirror in the bundle, and candy wrapped in oiled paper. It was the same rum-flavored sweet Simon had given Berry in Saint Louis. There were two of everything, but to Rachel’s disappointment Berry would have no part of it. Fain smiled at Rachel’s excitement and went back to work on his guns. Rachel carefully laid aside half of the finery, biding her time until Berry was in a more favorable frame of mind.

Early in the second week, Berry began to ride out on the sorrel mare that had been her pa’s. Soon it was her greatest pleasure and each day she rode farther and farther from the cabin. She studied the land, the river, and the map that marked the location of
her
land.

A plan began to form in her mind. She mulled it over for several days before she made up her mind what she would do. She would go see for herself if her land was swampy and unfit for farming. She knew Fain would never allow her to leave the homestead—if he knew she was going. She would have to be careful and appear to be settled. In order to do that, she took several items from her wagon and set them up in Fain’s house. She spent several evenings spinning wool they had carded before they’d left Ohio.

After giving her plan much thought, Berry decided to confide in Fish. Every minute the young man had to spare was spent dogging her tracks. She knew he liked her, liked her a lot, although she hadn’t given him any encouragement toward a personal relationship. He seemed satisfied with friendship and she was grateful and flattered—she had never had a male friend before.

One hot afternoon Fish came out to the garden where Berry was picking potato bugs off the plants. She moved out of the patch and into the shade and drank thirstily from the water jar he had brought to her. Fish hunkered down beside her. His fair hair was plastered to his head with sweat, and rivulets of it trickled down his smooth face. He looked at her adoringly with his wide amber eyes.

“This is the map the land man gave my pa,” she said, drawing the folded paper from her apron pocket. “I want to go there, but don’t tell Fain and Rachel.” Her green eyes beseeched him.

Fish took a trembling breath. “You know I won’t tell, Miss Berry, if you ask me not to. But why in the world do you want to go there? You can’t take up a land contract without a man to help you.” His eyes searched her face; he had known the answer to his question before he asked it. “Would you let me . . . ?”

“No, Fish,” she said quickly. “I just want to see what it’s like. I know I can’t improve on it enough to get clear title,” she fibbed. “I just want to see it. After all, I came all the way from Ohio and . . . it’s not fair that I don’t even get to see where my new home would have been if my . . . pa had lived.” She put just the right amount of quiver in her voice and allowed her lower lip to tremble slightly.

“Ahhh . . . Miss Berry. You’ve got a home here. Fain wouldn’t hear of you not being here with Miz MacCartney. In the months I’ve been here I’ve not seen him so happy.”

“He’s been wonderful to me,” Berry admitted. “But . . . do you know the location of this section?” She pointed to the marked spot on the map.

“It’s about twenty miles, I’d say.” Fish studied the map. “It wouldn’t be hard to find. It seems to me it’s the land beyond this creek or dry gulch—whichever it is.”

“Are we here?” Berry pointed to a spot on the map with a small twig. When Fish nodded, she poked a small hole to mark the place. “Then it would be best to go north and then west?”

“I’d say so. Go north until you run into a creek and follow it until it runs out. Then a few miles on west would be the place your pa filed on. It says the boundary is marked by ax marks on the trees.” He sank down beside her and took her hand. His wasn’t much larger than her own. “I don’t want you going off by yourself, Berry. I’ll go with you.”

“It’s sweet of you, Fish. I’ve not even decided for sure if I’m going. Fain will be angry and Rachel will worry. I’ll have to think about it for a while. You won’t tell anyone I’m thinking about it?”

“Of course I won’t.” He squeezed her hand and got to his feet. “Don’t stay out here in the sun too long,” he cautioned, and Berry felt a surge of affection for him.

“I won’t,” she promised, and watched his slight figure walk away, head bent, shoulders slumped dejectedly.

Twenty miles! Berry was elated. She could make that distance in one day on the mare. Plans crowded into her mind. She would take a good look around, decide the best way to bring the wagons in, and return the next day. She was sorry for the worry it would cause Rachel, but there was no help for it. She would go alone. Fish would be nothing but company for her, and she didn’t need that. She would take the rifle or the musket—that would be all the protection she would need. She toyed with the idea of taking Israel, thinking it would ease Rachel’s mind to know she wasn’t alone, but she dismissed the idea—Israel on a mule would just slow her down.

Berry didn’t allow herself to think about Simon and prided herself on not taking one taste of the treat he had sent. Fain teased about the candy and talked on and on about Simon’s taking his trade goods down to Pike’s camp.
The devil take Simon!
He was the one who had said that a woman should pay no attention to a man’s soft words, but should judge him by his actions. He’d gone off without a word to her. His actions told her what he thought of her. She would not take a husband who thought no more of her feelings than that. Mr. Simon Witcher had better understand that right now!

*    *    *

The sky was still dark but showing faint signs of light in the east when Berry slipped out to the barnyard and saddled the mare. She had a blanket and a two-day supply of food wrapped in a cloth. A musket was tucked into the waistband of her skirt, and the powder and shot hung from a bag thrown over her shoulder. With a pounding heart, expecting Fain or Fish to come running after her any minute, she led the horse into the woods.

Only Israel, from his pallet beneath the wagon, saw her go. He rose on his elbow, watched, and lay back down. The missy was taking an early ride.

She had done it! It had been amazingly easy. Berry took a moment to soothe and praise the mare before leading her to a stump and mounting her. Once away from the homestead, she laughed with relief. The note she had left telling Rachel she had gone to the chokecherry patch to pick while it was cool would give her a few hours before they realized she was gone.

“I’m sorry to cause you worry, Rachel,” she murmured, and the sound of her voice in the quiet of the forest was a comfort. “I won’t sit and wait for Simon or any man to come along and take care of me. I’ve served my time knuckling under to a man’s wishes, just as you have.”

Saying the words seemed to lift her spirits. She saw in her mind’s eye the map she had tucked in her pocket and turned the mare to the edge of the woods and followed the line of trees. She had ridden out this way several times before and judged she wouldn’t reach unfamiliar territory until almost daylight.

In spite of all she could do to prevent it, her thoughts continually drifted to Simon. She envisioned him vividly. He was a handsome man when he didn’t have that damned hat on his head! Things would have been different between them, she mused, if he’d done some asking instead of telling her he would marry her as if it were something he had to do. Damn him! This was the first time in her life she had some say in what she would or wouldn’t do. She was going to make the most of it, and if she discovered that the land was swampy, as he had said, she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

The sky lighted with dawn. Berry crossed a meadow and the pale light was enough to help her see the countryside and give wide berth to a marsh that would have slowed down the mare. She rode on. She was already hungry, but she would have to wait until mid-morning when she stopped to rest the mare. The woods ahead looked thick and dark. Berry stood in the stirrups and tried to see the river, but could see only more brush and trees. The mare stopped of her own volition and Berry pulled the map from her pocket.

She sat the horse for a long moment and studied the terrain before and behind her. The creek would lead her west. It should be ahead. She pointed the mare to the north and urged her forward. Taking her time, Berry worked her way through the trees. A wild turkey gobbled and scurried into the underbrush, then the woods were silent, except for the sound of the mare’s hooves and an occasional twitter from a bird in the branches overhead.

It seemed an eternity before she reached the creek and pulled the horse to a stop. She slid from the saddle and led the mare to the water. Berry found a place where she could kneel down to drink. The bright, hot sun beat down on her. She untied the strings of the stiff-brimmed calico bonnet that rode on her back and fanned her face with the brim before she put the bonnet on her head. She didn’t like to wear it, because it made her feel as if she were seeing the world through a tunnel, but it was the only headgear she owned. She pushed it as far back on her head as she could so that she could see on each side of her as well as in front. When she mounted the mare, she had to kick her several times before she would leave the lush grass that grew beside the stream.

“You can have more later on,” she promised.

Berry soon discovered that the going had been easier before she reached the creek and turned west. Here the grass came up to the mare’s belly and at times came up to drag on her feet in the stirrups. It was hard walking for the mare. As soon as she found a place where she could cross the stream she did so and followed an animal path that ran parallel to the creek. The mare blew bubbles from her lips in appreciation and Berry patted her neck in understanding.

Noon came and the creek showed no sign of diminishing as indicated on the map. If anything, it was wider and deeper. Berry paused long enough to eat a couple of biscuits and to let the mare rest, then pushed on. At times she had to move into the woods, out of sight of the creek, when the underbrush became too thick to pass through. By mid-afternoon she didn’t have even an animal trail to follow. Tired and disappointed, she let the mare amble on at her own pace.

When next she came out of the woods she stopped in surprise. The sun hung just over the treetops to the west. The day had passed swiftly. She was tired. The insides of her thighs were galled from being wet with sweat and rubbing against the saddle leather. She had never before ridden for so long, and her back and bottom ached. She urged the mare down to the creek and onto a sandy bank. Looking ahead, the creek was wide and filled with flowing water as far as she could see. Berry was sure she had traveled more than twenty miles. She had been riding for ten hours, or close to it by her reckoning, which meant that she had to be at least forty miles from Fain’s farm. The thought alarmed her. For the first time she doubted her wisdom in coming. The only bright spot in her thinking was the fact that she hadn’t come through swampy land, except for the tract with the tall grass, and that was shortly after she had turned west to follow the creek. That couldn’t be
her
land. The map showed
her
land north of the creek.

Should she start back? She gave a deep, disappointed sigh and slid from the mare’s back. She went to stand at the mare’s head and rub her nose.

“You’re tired, too. Let’s rest here for a while and we’ll have to start back. Oh, damn! How I hate to give up.” She took off her bonnet and let the breeze cool her face. “Phew! It’s hot.”

Berry let the horse graze until the sun disappeared behind the treetops before she mounted and turned back. She wanted to get through the thick stand of trees and into the open before she stopped for the night.

She wasn’t sure when she felt the first prickle of fear. It may have been with her for hours; it had surfaced gradually. The mare’s ears had twitched and swiveled back even before they stopped on the sandbar. Now everything was so quiet. She no longer heard the twittering of birds or the chatter of squirrels. But of course, she and the mare would be enough to scare them away, she thought with her customary logic. She hung her bonnet on the saddle horn and scolded herself for letting her imagination run away with her. The weight of the musket in her skirt band was a comfort. What is there to be afraid of? she asked herself. A panther or a wildcat would be just as afraid of me as I am of it. They only attack when they’re hungry, and there’s plenty of small game here. She had seen deer, rabbits, and turkey.

The Indians in this area are Osage, she reasoned, and they have a government agreement to supply beaver pelts to Manuel Lisa, an important trader in Saint Louis. They wouldn’t jeopardize that agreement by harming a white girl.

But then again . . . there’s the Shawnee and the Delaware. They were pushed out of their homeland and across the river by Mad Anthony Wayne. They could take her, wander on west, and she would never be heard from again. Oh, damn! Why did she have to think of that?

Her thoughts were so busy that she came through the woods and out into the clearing before she realized it. She was tempted to push on, but she couldn’t remember another place to stop as suitable as this one. The mare had to rest. Her sides were heaving and the saddle blanket was soaked with sweat. Berry stopped the horse and got stiffly down. She held tightly to the reins and looked back toward the woods, glad to be through them. Night was coming on fast. In a short time it would be dark.

Berry led the mare to the creek to drink, then tied her to a downed tree trunk where she could reach the grass. She pulled the heavy saddle from the horse’s back and hung the wet blanket over a branch to dry, then carried her own blanket and food pack to the base of a large cottonwood. Just as she was about to drop her blanket she heard the warning sound of a rattlesnake. She jumped back. Not five feet away, coiled and ready to strike, was the largest snake she had ever seen. Cautiously she backed away while keeping her eyes on the snake. After a while it slowly uncoiled and slithered into the underbrush.