Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 01] (6 page)

“Light says Linc and George crossed the river a ways down and came up through the woods. I expect they’d planned to kill the farmer and make off with the women. Linc got coldcocked and I stole the farmer away from them. That put the kibosh on their scheme for a time, but they won’t give up.” Simon spoke with his head turned away from Fain, his eyes still following the girl. “I’d bet my right arm they’ll show up at the wagon grounds tonight.”

Fain looked at him and followed his gaze. “That ain’t no bet at all.” He shook his head. “Them are two fine-lookin’ women ’n’ ’bout as seemly as they come. It’s a pity.” He shook his head again and walked back into the building.

Simon stood for a moment longer, then turned to follow Fain. He was met in the doorway by the young French and Indian scout who worked for him now and then. The slim, quick-moving man was called Light. His real name was Lightbody. No one knew much about him or where he had come from. He came and went when the mood struck him. Always quiet and somber, he could move through the forest swiftly and silently. It was said he could almost trail a sparrow in flight. He was slow to rile; but when he was angry, he was a streak of chain lightning. Some people thought him part crazy and most steered clear of him. Simon had come to know him through a friend, a Virginian named Jefferson Merrick, who had a homestead on the Missouri several miles beyond the village of Saint Charles. Simon had a deep respect for the scout and would trust him with his life.

“Did Ernest pay you, Light?”

“No need.”

“It’s here when you want it.”

“I’ll be goin’ upriver for Jeff soon. You want I take a message?”

“Then you’ve decided not to go with Pike?”

“Zebulon Pike is a fool. I’ll not go north in winter. Waters freeze up, travel is hard.”

“He’s sent word he wants to see me. I’ll head out in the morning. Tell Jeff to stop by Fain’s if he comes this way.”

Light nodded his dark head, stepped off the porch, and disappeared around the corner of the building.

Simon went inside.

The warehouse fronted the main street and backed to the river. Doors on both ends were open, letting in the only light. Simon and Fain stood idly surveying the stacks of goods that had been brought in from the wagons. Most of the stock in the warehouse had come up the Mississippi from New Orleans, but once a year he or his men took the heavy wagons over the trail to Louisville and traded pelts for tobacco, gunpowder, shot, salt, and other necessities. On his last trip to New Orleans he’d brought up barrels of coffee beans, bolts of cloth, pearl buttons, sewing thread, milled white flour, sugar, and spices. These were expensive goods and he still had most of what he had bought. He’d not make that mistake again. Most people in the sprawling, new, raw town got along on cornmeal, molasses, and tea, and spun their own cloth and made their own buttons from the shells that lined the riverbank.

Simon sold mainly to the merchants who ran the mercantile stores up and down the street and to the few stores in Saint Charles. They in turn sold the goods for whatever they could get out of it, sometimes at a large profit. He also bought and sold pelts, trading Indians tobacco for beaver, muskrat, shaved deerskins, and roots.

Simon found it a satisfying way of life. Some would say that he was a very rich man. He didn’t think about it in those terms. He enjoyed transporting the goods to this small spot of civilization in the wilderness, but he didn’t like anything about the dickering with merchants over the prices or keeping the books. He left all that up to Ernest Wenst, a solid German emigrant he’d befriended a few years back. Ernest and his helper, a freed black man by the name of Lardy, ran that end of the business.

Simon’s great interest was the piece of land he owned upriver. He was happiest when he was there, with the forest on three sides of him and the river in front. At present he had only a small cabin on the land, but it was his dream to build a fine solid house on the bluff overlooking the river, clear some of the land for planting, and raise fine horses.

He had been toying with the idea of signing up with Zebulon Pike’s expedition up the Mississippi to seek its source. Simon was glad now that he’d passed up the opportunity to go with explorers Lewis and Clark. By staying on his land for another year, he had obtained a clear title.

Simon liked the strong-willed, hard-driving Pike, even if Light did think him a fool, and had visited with him at his port of Kaskaskia several times. He still had a few weeks to decide if he wanted to put off building his house for another year and go adventuring. Somehow, the thought wasn’t as exciting to him as it had been before he had left for Louisville. Maybe he was tired of traveling.

Simon often wondered why he hadn’t turned the business over to Ernest and washed his hands of it. When he had first started trading he was motivated by the need for money. Now, he reasoned, he had a need to be busy, to have a reason to come to town, to see people. It was hard to admit to himself that he was lonely. The desire to have someone of his own had been bearing down on him of late. His life seemed strangely empty when compared to that of Ernest, who went home each evening to a wife and children.

Simon shook his head to rid himself of the notion and picked up a bale of furs and tossed them up to Lardy, who was stacking them to make space for the new stock. Work, he thought. Work so you can get that girl out of your mind. Even the hard work didn’t stop his thoughts. Berry was the only woman he’d met whom he hadn’t forgotten about a moment after he’d left her. Perhaps when they finished here, he and Fain would slip through the woods and see what was going on up at the wagon ground. She was too rare a girl to be ruined by the likes of Linc Smith.

*    *    *

The sun had gone down behind the foliage in the west, a fog had appeared low over the river, and the trees had faded into an indistinct mass of purple shade when curses from the wagon told Berry her father had awakened from his drunken stupor.

The wagons were spread out and parked at random in the large meadow. Everyone was tired, but excited that they were so near their journey’s end. Tomorrow some would go north to the Missouri and some would take up land to the south. Berry and Rachel had no idea what Asa would do. He never discussed his plans with them.

From her place beside the cookfire where she was frying strips of meat and cooking corn pone, Berry watched the end of the wagon. Rachel sat quietly beside her, a look of resignation on her tired face. They’d been through this many times before and knew Asa would be as cross as a bull with a crooked horn when he awoke.

Setting her jaw and steeling herself for the unpleasantness that was about to come, Berry got slowly to her feet and placed a reassuring hand on Rachel’s shoulder. She felt her tremble.

“Just stay out of his way,” she murmured. “Why don’t you crawl into the back of the wagon and lay down?”

“No. I’ll not leave you to face him by yourself.”

Asa came out of the wagon roaring curses. “Ya goddamn black bastard! What’d you take my money sack off for?” Israel was giving the wagon wheels their nightly greasing. Asa’s fist lashed out and knocked him off his feet.

“Naw, suh! Naw, suh! Ah never . . .”

“Leave him be!” Berry shouted. “He hasn’t touched your money. The trader dumped you in the wagon and took enough to pay the ferryman.”

Asa looked at her with blurry-eyed astonishment. “We done crossed?”

“We crossed today.” A sneer twisted Berry’s lips and her look revealed her contempt. “A lot of help we got from you.”

Asa’s head throbbed. His anger and misery were aggravated by his daughter’s haughty, independent attitude. “Shut your face! I ain’t a-havin’ no sass outta ya!” He hitched up his trousers and ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “Somethin’ ain’t right. I ain’t never slept the day away afore.”

“You never had your whiskey dosed before.”

“Dosed? Who done it?”

“That trash you took up with done it. Sleep with dogs and you can expect to get up with fleas!” she quoted sarcastically. She turned her back on him and moved the teakettle closer to the blaze. A heavy hand on her shoulder spun her around.

“You done it!”

“If I’d-a done it I’d-a poisoned the lot of you. The river trash didn’t sleep the day away. They didn’t dose up their whiskey, just yours. And . . . get your hands off me!” Hatred for this man who had made her life so miserable burned deep. It blazed from her eyes.

“It’s ’bout time you showed some respect for your pa. I always put clothes on your back and filled your belly. Now you’re gonna earn your keep. I got me some plans for ya, missy. You ’n’ that scrawny bitch is gonna make me rich.”

“You can forget any plans you have for us. We’ll not be a part of anythin’ you hatch up with those no-goods. Where’s this land you was braggin’ about?”

“I ain’t a-breakin’ my back on no homestead when I c’n get rich right here. I’m startin’ me a tavern. Ain’t none here that’s got nothin’ but used-up old hags in ’em. You ’n’ her, soon’s she gets that brat outta her belly, is gonna be my ace in the hole. Rivermen’ll swarm in like flies jist to touch ya.”

Berry heard the groan that came from Rachel and rage started deep inside her. It rose in tremendous waves until she was quivering from the force of it. “I knew you was rotten, but I didn’t know you was so low down you’d do this! We won’t do it!” Berry stuck out her jaw and placed her fists on her hips. “We won’t do it,” she shouted again. “You don’t have no hold on us. I’m grown up now and Rachel’s not wed to you. We’ll not work in a tavern like common sluts!”

“You’ll do as I say!” Asa roared. “I ain’t havin’ no more sass like ya done last night. I aim to strip the hide off ya!” His hand lashed out and grabbed her arm. Before she could brace herself, he jerked her toward the wagon and reached under the seat for the strap.

“No! Asa . . . no!” Rachel tried to wedge herself between them. “Don’t, Asa . . . please . . .”

“Get out of the way, Rachel,” Berry said calmly. “He’ll hurt you.”

“You’re goddamn right! I ain’t havin’ no snotty, sassy talk from no slut!” His voice was laced with icy rage. He pushed Rachel and she fell to her knees.

While his attention was on Rachel, Berry jerked away from him. She ran to the end of the wagon and grabbed the gun. When she turned, she was holding the musket in both hands and it was pointed at Asa. “If you use that strap I’ll blow a hole in ya big enough to drag this wagon through!”

Asa looked from Berry to Rachel on the ground. His lips parted in a snarl and his nostrils quivered with rage. He lifted the strap to bring it down on Rachel’s back.

The dark, slim figure sprang into Berry’s line of vision as if it dropped from the sky. A knife shot through the air with the speed of an arrow. It passed through Asa’s leather shirt at the top of his shoulder and pinned him to the wagon box. The attacker’s head was thrown back, and his lips were parted in a snarl like that of an animal. Buckskin clothes hugged his frame like a second skin. Berry would have been sure he was an Indian if not for the black hair tied, club-style, at the nape of his neck. In two seconds he was in front of Asa, a two-edged blade in his hand. He crouched ready to spring.

“Wh . . .what . . .?” Asa was stunned, then a frightened look appeared on his face.

“Beat woman and I keel you!”

“Who . . . What? Who’re you?”

The man reached for his knife and jerked it loose, freeing Asa’s shirt. Asa cringed and grabbed his shoulder. Blood seeped between his fingers from the cut made when the knife had grazed his skin. The stranger slipped one knife into his boot, the other into his belt. Ignoring Asa, he knelt beside Rachel.

“Madame?”
His voice was hushed, almost reverent. “Did he hurt you?” His eyes examined her boldly.

Rachel was unable to speak. She shook her head.

“I help you. Please . . . ?” The gentle voice again.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He lifted her to her feet and held on to her until he was sure she was steady, then released her and turned back to Asa. He snatched the strap from Asa’s hand and tossed it into the campfire.

“You got no right to do that!” A surge of courage stirred in Asa. He grabbed for the strap to pull it from the fire.

The knife appeared in the man’s hand again. He kicked the strap farther into the blaze. “I watch. Next time I keel you.” He didn’t have Asa’s bulk, but there was something in the way he moved and in his face that caused Asa to step back. “I watch,” he said again and spun on his heel. He walked with light, quick steps into the woods.

A stunned silence followed. Berry exchanged a quick glance with Rachel. The man had not even glanced at her, but Berry knew that he had known she was there holding the gun. She still held it pointed at Asa. She lowered it, but watched him. She had no idea what he would do.

He turned his verbal abuse on Rachel. “Ya done took up with a breed! I oughtta’ve left ya where I found ya.” He clenched his fist as if to strike her, then glanced in the direction where the man had disappeared into the woods. Fear of the knife was all that kept his hands at his sides.

“I never saw him before,” Rachel said stoutly.

“You lie!” he said with a snarl and walked away. “Bring my vittles,” he snapped at Israel as he passed him.

Berry went to the campfire. Rachel sat back down on the box, and Berry laid the musket in her lap. She dished up a plate of food and poured strong tea into a tin cup. She handed the meal to Israel, who was trembling.

“Leave it by him and come back here,” she murmured.

“Who was he?” Rachel shivered. “He’d-a killed Asa.”

“I was goin’ to, Rachel. I swear it. It scares me to think I’d’ve killed my own pa. I don’t know why I didn’t shoot. That man just sprang out of nowhere, and somehow I knew that he was goin’ to help us.” She looked over her shoulder and noticed that Israel had left the food and sidled away. “I wonder why that man was watchin’ us.”

“His eyes were sad when he looked at me,” Rachel said softly. “He looked Indian, but he spoke French.”

“Well, I never! People poppin’ in and out of this camp like jackrabbits.” Berry put a piece of corn pone on a plate, handed it to Rachel, took one for herself, and sat down. “I’m not hungry, but I guess I’d better eat.” She saw that Rachel was picking at her food. “You’d better eat too, Rachel. Eat what you want. I’ll give the rest to Israel.”