Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (19 page)

“I can stand a watch, Rain.”

“No need for that. I sleep with one eye open.”

“Good night.”

“Night, Amy.”

Amy moved into the wagon, careful not to wake Eleanor. She undressed swiftly and slipped into her nightdress. With shaking hands she unplaited her hair, dug her nails into her scalp for a few delicious moments, then lay down on her pallet. She pulled the blankets up over her and rested her head on her folded arm.

It was so new, this being with Rain. So wonderful. Even more than she had imagined it to be. He was not shy with her as he had been when he was young. She was the one who was tongue-tied most of the time.

“You shouldn’t have let him kiss you, ma’am. That was a mistake.” Eleanor’s voice came softly out of the darkness.

Amy was shocked into silence by the knowledge that the woman had been watching her and Rain and had seen them kiss.

“Lesson number one,” Eleanor continued. “Make a man wait. Make him want to hold you and kiss you more than anything before you give in. No man values a kiss given too easily. Lesson number two—”

“Shut up! I don’t need your advice.”

“You’d better take all the advice you can get with Rain Tallman. He’s the kind that could sweet-talk a woman right out of her drawers—if he wanted her,” Eleanor said with a light laugh.

“If you know so damn much about men, how come you’ve got to go clear to the Arkansas to get one?” Amy asked with cold sarcasm.

“I already told you that.”

“Ah, yes. Money and breeding. It makes him sound like a high-priced stallion.”

“It would be a long, long trip for a man like Rain without a woman to take care of his needs. Especially if he’s used to having
it.
If you know what I mean. I’m taken, so that leaves you. He’s working his way up to what he wants and you’re so smitten with his good looks you’ll give it to him.”

Amy had never wanted to hit anyone as badly as she wanted to hit Eleanor Woodbury. She wanted to shout that she had known Rain and loved him for eight long years, and she wasn’t going to let her spoil what happened between them by making it dirty. But what good would it do to tell Eleanor Woodbury anything? She was nothing but a shallow, spoiled woman.

She gritted her teeth and turned her back, hoping for sleep. But anger churned so violently inside her that sleep was a long time coming.

Ten

Breakfast, before daylight, was fried bacon, bread and cups of strong, steaming coffee. Eleanor refused to get up when Amy called her. Rain stripped the canvas off their makeshift shelter, rolled it and tied it to the side of the wagon while Amy cleaned the campsite and Gavin hitched up the mules.

“I’ll saddle your horse, or would you rather ride in the wagon this morning?” Rain paused beside Amy, his saddle on his shoulder and the bridle in his hand.

“No, I’ll ride.”

“I thought you might be saddle sore. You rode a good many miles yesterday.”

“I’m a bit sore, but nothing that won’t wear off in a little while.”

“I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”

“I won’t.”

Amy’s eyes followed him as he walked away. She had spent a restless night. The pallet she had lain on was hard, the quarters cramped. And in spite of her determination not to let Eleanor’s remarks bother her, they had. During the long night hours as she turned restlessly, trying to find a comfortable position, she had come to the conclusion that the few kisses she and Rain had shared may have meant more to her than to him. Amy had thought about it until she was deep in despair and hours had passed before she fell asleep.

*   *   *

The wagon left deep ruts in the soft ground as the team slowly pulled it away from the campsite. Rain led the way and Amy took a position behind the wagon. It was a cold, damp morning. She turned up the collar of her coat and thought about Eleanor, warm and comfortable in her bed in the wagon.

Back on the road the ground was not so soft and the team picked up speed, but still the miles seemed to pass slowly under the wagon wheels. They passed a cabin, set on a rise above the road. A woman with a baby in her arms and a small child holding on to her skirt came out to wave at them as they passed. It was a slovenly looking place, Amy noted. The shed that housed the cow was leaning. A dead tree had been pulled up beside the house and it looked as though the settler cut just enough wood to satisfy their daily needs. The woman looked lonely, as if their passing was a highlight of her day.

At mid-morning they met a lone wagon going east. The wagon’s canvas sagged on uneven hoops that seemed to shift with each jolt of the wheels on the rough ground. The man on the seat was big, square-shouldered, middle-aged and had a face full of whiskers. His wife sat beside him, her face all but hidden beneath a sagging bonnet. Two children stood behind the wagon seat, one holding on to the woman’s shoulders; both had pinched, anxious faces. Halting his team, the man waited for Rain to ride up beside him. Rain motioned for Gavin to go on. He steered the team around the wagon and Amy followed. She looked over her shoulder to see the man extending a hand to Rain that looked as if it could knock a mule to its knees.

In a few minutes Rain rode up beside her.

“That man has more troubles than a dog has fleas. If I had stayed he would have told me all of them. Their cabin burned, Indians stole their stock, and the cow went dry. They’re looking for a new place to settle.”

“They’ve had bad luck, but the next place may not be any better.”

“Everyone has a streak of bad luck once in a while. You either overcome it or give in and complain about it for the rest of your life.”

When Rain left her to ride ahead, Amy thougth about what he had said. Her father had been one to give in and complain. The thought that she might never see him again hurt her a little. He was her father even though he was the most selfish person she had ever known. She thought of Tally and wondered if he could break away from his mother’s influence and seek a life of his own. She doubted it. She didn’t think he had ever had an independent thought.

They came to a small, shallow pond and stopped to let the horses and mules drink. Amy got off the horse and led it and Gavin’s horse to the water to drink alongside Rain’s.

“You’d better see about Miss Woodbury, Amy. She may be sick.”

“She was all right last night, and this morning she said not to bother her.”

“She’s not lying in that wagon all day or she will be sick. If she’s all right, tell her to get up, put on some stout shoes and walk for a while.”

Amy went to the back of the wagon and pulled up the flap. Eleanor was still in the bunk. She lay propped against the pillows, a blanket drawn up to her chin.

“What do you want?”

“Rain wants to know if you’re all right.”

“That’s sweet of him. Tell him I’m fine.”

“Then get up and dress. He said for you to wear some stout shoes today so you can walk a while.”

Too late, Eleanor realized she had been led into the trap of admitting that she was not sick.

“I’ll get up when I please and walk when I please.” She flopped over on her side and buried her head in the pillow.

“No, you won’t.” Rain stood looking at her over Amy’s shoulder. “You need to build up some strength for later. You’ll not do it by lolling around and eating like a bird.”

“I never eat much. I don’t get hungry.”

“A good brisk walk will make you hungry enough.”

“I don’t want to walk. I’m . . . not used to it.”

“Today is a good day to start getting used to it. You’ll walk for a short time this afternoon.”

“You’re mean and—”

“I can get meaner.” Rain dropped the flap and mounted his horse. He motioned for Gavin to start the mules.

When they were mounted, Rain moved his horse to ride alongside Amy. His eyes roamed her slim figure. He liked the way she sat in the saddle—solidly, her feet dug deep in the stirrups, her back straight. She was lovely and proud, calm and capable. She was soft and yielding too. Holding her in his arms had been one of the most enjoyable moments of his life.

“Amy . . .” He didn’t know why he said her name. He just wanted to. He could not tell her the other thoughts in his mind, not yet. She looked directly into his eyes. They were wide, clear, honest, deep amber eyes. “Ride up ahead for a while, Amy. Keep a sharp watch on the timber to the north. If we have any trouble it would come from there.”

“Are you expecting some?”

“I’m always expecting some.”

She put her heels to the mare and they sprang ahead. She rode in a trot until she was well ahead of the wagon. Then she slowed the mare, keeping her eyes on the timberline to the north. She forced all thoughts of Rain from her mind and concentrated on keeping a sharp watch.

Half an hour later Rain moved up to ride point again and Amy fell back to ride behind. Eleanor was sitting on the seat beside Gavin. He grinned at Amy when she passed, but Eleanor sat as stiff as a board and looked straight ahead.

When they stopped for noon there was no water for the horses. Gavin unhitched the team and rubbed them down lest they get sores from the harnesses. After the horses were tied where they could eat the still wet grass, Rain started a small fire and set water on to heat for coffee.

Amy walked into the woods to find a place for privacy. She said nothing to Eleanor as she walked away, but was soon aware that she followed, silent and sullen. Behind a screen of sumac Amy stopped, looked around carefully, then placed her rifle within reaching distance. She finished what she had come to do within minutes, turned her back and waited while Eleanor was still fumbling with her skirts and pantalettes.

Eleanor appeared to be meekly subdued. She ate her meat and bread and then accepted a hard-cooked egg Amy gave to her. She sat alone, drinking her coffee and staring up the narrow woodland trail.

The sun came out. Amy took off her coat and tucked it beneath the wagon seat. The nooning had not been as happy as the day before. Tension flowed between Eleanor and the rest of them. Gavin hitched up the team, Rain put out the fire with a few shovels of dirt and Amy repacked the almost empty food box. Amy noticed how well Gavin and Rain worked together. The men didn’t talk much; each seemed to know what to do. Everyone pitched in and worked except Eleanor.

Amy climbed on to the wagon seat and Gavin put the reins in her hands.

“We’ll start out fairly slow, Amy,” Rain said and mounted his horse. “Miss Woodbury will walk for a while. If you get tired, Miss Woodbury, hang on to that strap on the wagon.”

Eleanor’s eyes were pinpoints of anger. “I have to do as you say now, Mr. Tallman, but I may leave you when we reach a river town. How would you explain
that
to Will Bradford?”

“I’d tell him how lucky he was,” Rain said simply and turned away. He lifted his hand and pointed west.

Rain kept his horse at a slow walk directly in front of the mules. Amy sat with the slack leather in her hands, thinking how foolish Eleanor had been to pit her will against Rain’s. Amy was sure that once he made up his mind it was as unbending as it had been when he was a mere boy and had decided he would take Tecumseh’s sisters home to Prophetstown.

Time seemed to pass slowly and silently. The only sounds Amy heard as the wagon rolled along were the creaking of its timbers, the jingle of the harnesses, and an occasional threatening caw from a bluejay in a tall cedar beside the trail. For the first time since dawn she was able to let her eyelids droop and relax.

Not much more than half an hour had passed when she was startled by Gavin’s shout.

“Stop the wagon!”

Amy used all her strength to pull at the reins. Even before she had stopped the mules Rain was passing on his way to the back of the wagon. When she looked back, Eleanor was lying on the ground. Amy quickly secured the reins around the brake handle, jumped down and ran back to where Gavin was kneeling beside Eleanor.

“What’s the matter with her?” She lifted one of Eleanor’s limp hands, then answered her own question. “She’s swooned. Get some water.” Rain jumped to obey. Amy untied Eleanor’s bonnet and pulled it off so she could fan her white face with the stiff brim.

“I be thinkin’ I know what’s ill with the lassie,” Gavin said after they had wiped her face with a wet cloth and she had not revived. “She be laced so tight in a corset she can’t be gettin’ a deep breath ’n she be carryin’ her weight in petticoats. What with them draggin’ the ground ’n bein’ wet was more than she could bear.”

“What’s a . . . corset?” Rain looked from Gavin to Amy with a puzzled frown. Amy dipped the cloth in the water, patted Eleanor’s face and left the explanation to Gavin.

“It be a contraption made of whalebone ’n stout goods ’n laced tight about a woman’s middle. Tis said some lassies wear ’em so tight as to crush their ribs. Aye, it’s a torture the lass has been endurin’.”

“Why? For God’s sake!”

“Tis the fashion among the ladies of high standin’.”

“Fashion be damned! Get it off her.”

“The lass will have to be doin’ it, mon, for tis next to her naked body.”

“Amy can’t do it by herself. Damn fool woman!” Rain swore again and flipped up Eleanor’s skirt. “Get rid of some of those petticoats too. What are they tied to?”

“I’ll do it.”

Rain scowled when Amy quickly pulled Eleanor’s skirt down over the petticoats. Having been raised with the Shawnee, he had never been able to understand the white woman’s aversion to having their legs viewed.

Amy unbuttoned the front of Eleanor’s dress from the neck down past her waist. She reached in and untied the top petticoat.

“That’s one. Pull it off and I’ll untie another.” Gavin reached under Eleanor’s back and lifted her. Rain reached beneath her skirt and jerked off the petticoat. They repeated the process four times, leaving Eleanor wearing one petticoat, a light shift, pantalettes, and the corset. Amy kept Eleanor’s body covered as much as possible for propriety’s sake, and breathed a sigh of relief to discover she was wearing the corset over the light shift.

Rain looked at what Eleanor had laced herself into and cursed. “Goddamn! A woman who’d wear that thing doesn’t have the sense of a goose. And to think some people think Indian women are stupid.”