Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (16 page)

“The governor has suggested that we build a stockade and a shot house here.” Farr waited for someone to say something, and when no one did, he continued. “We’ll also have to build a barracks to temporarily house at least fifty soldiers and four officers.”

“A fort here warn’t do us no good, Farr. Hit’d take two hours fer us ta get here,” one of the men who had come downriver in a canoe said.

“Two hours? But you could bring your family in by way of the river.”

“I ain’t leavin’ my cows fer them blasted savages,” the man said fervently.

“That will be up to you,” Farr said and turned to look at the next man who spoke.

“Why’re ya building a barracks if’n the soldiers ain’t acomin’?”

“I volunteered to build a temporary shelter for patrols. In turn Harrison agreed to give us powder, iron, and lead to make shot if we provide an adequate supply base here. He also said that if you folk would furnish food supplies, payment would be made in trade goods or scrip.”

“Thunderation! The gove’ment so poor they can’t pay the sojers. Scrip ain’t no good.” Donald Luscomb shuffled his feet and spit on the ground.

“We’ll take their scrip.” The voice came from the back of the group and all heads turned to look at the Sufferites.

“I never said I warn’t goin’ ta take it,” Luscomb retorted.

“We’ll all have to pitch in and do what we can. We need to have it finished by fall—” Farr was talking again, but was interrupted by the Perkins boy.

“Why here?”

“Yeah. Why not my place or Brown’s?” another man asked.

“Because there’s an equal number of families to the north and to the south. It’s the easiest place to defend and near enough to the river that the troops could get in here if we were pinned down. Any more questions about the site?” There was silence. “The sawyer camp will be down there in the timber by the river. We’ll rig up a shelter for those who want to stay. I’m staking out the line for the stockade tomorrow, and we’ll start digging the trench.”

“We’ll furnish two men and two oxen a day until our crops are going, then three men and three oxen.” The elder of the four Sufferites spoke again.

Farr nodded, then said, “How about you, Brown?”

“I can send up one a my boys, but we ain’t got no animal to spare.”

“Palmer?”

“We ain’t got no animal to spare either, but my boy can come.”

“Thompson?”

“I’ll send my nigger and a mule. Neither one’s got the sense of a goose, but you’re welcome to them.”

Liberty darted a look at Mr. Washington to see if he took offense. He didn’t seem to notice. He stood as tall and straight as an oak tree, his eyes on Farr.

“That nigger we’re sending ain’t worth a hoot. He’s so slow and lazy the fleas crawl off him.” Mrs. Thompson’s voice reached beyond the group of women to her husband, who gave her a quelling look.

Farr went around the circle, calling on each man for his opinion. Each man pledged to send one or two men or boys from their families and what mules and oxen they could spare to drag the heavy timbers up from the river.

“’Pears to me ya’ll need more teams,” Palmer said. “Didn’t ya say ya had oxen, Carroll?”

Surprised to be called on, Elija didn’t know what to say. His mouth pursed, then pulled to first one side and then the other. He looked at Liberty and then away.

“I ain’t . . . we ain’t jest set on if’n we’re stayin’ or agoin’ on to Vincennes yet.”

“We’re staying, Papa,” Liberty said more sharply than she intended. Then, to take some of the bossy sting out of her words, she added, “We decided that this morning. Remember?” She stepped away from the doorway and walked a few paces out into the yard. “You can have the use of the oxen, Farr. But first I’ll need them to plow a patch—”

“I was talkin’ to yore pa.” Palmer’s gruff voice interrupted her. His beard was so thick and matted she couldn’t see his mouth, but she knew it was there because his beard was stained with tobacco juice. “Are ya puttin’ out like the rest a us, Carroll?”

“Well . . . I don’t rightly know. Ya see, we ain’t rightly come ta decidin’—”

“We’ll do our share of the work the same as the rest of you. And I think the sooner the work is started the better,” Liberty said.

“I was talkin’ to yore pa,” Palmer said again. He turned, eyed her with disgust, and spit a thick yellow stream of tobacco juice on the ground.

“Since the oxen are mine, you’d better talk to me,” Liberty retorted sharply.

“Was you mine,” Palmer retorted just as heatedly, “I’d learn ya to keep a civil tongue in yore head ’n yore nose outta men’s business.”

“I’m not yours, so you don’t have to bother your head about it,” Liberty replied sharply. She was vaguely aware that she was making a spectacle of herself, but her anger overrode her judgment.

The man spoke to Elija while his small, angry eyes were still on the slim blond woman who stood glaring at him so defiantly.

“A woman’s place is with women, not stickin’ her nose in men’s business. Tell yore girl to go gab with ’em, Carroll. She’s paradin’ herself like a cat on a back fence—”

“Palmer! Hush that talk!” Farr said sharply. His eyes were as cold as a frozen pond when he looked at the man. “The oxen belong to Mrs. Perry, and she has the right to speak her piece—”

“Well, blame it! If’n petticoats is goin’ ta run things, count me outta it.”

“Just because a woman expresses her opinion doesn’t mean she’s running things. I’m planning on the women and children making shot and loading rifles if it comes to a showdown. A lot will depend on them.” He turned away from Palmer, making it clear that the subject was closed. “I know you’re anxious to get started home. I’ve said all I need to say. If anyone has anything he wants to bring up, now’s the time to do it.” Farr waited, and when no one spoke, he said, “There’s still brandy in the keg. Help yourselves.”

Liberty looked around to see the Sufferites walking back down the road. Either the argument had made them uncomfortable or they had found out what they came to find out and it was time to leave.

The rest of the men talked among themselves for a few minutes and then, after helping themselves to the brandy, went to saddle their horses or hitch up the wagons for the trip home. Liberty waited anxiously until Farr was alone, then she went to him.

“I must talk to you. And I want to show you something.” Her voice was urgent.

Farr looked down at her set, determined face and saw the anger smoldering in her eyes.

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

“There most certainly is something wrong. The most disgraceful thing I’ve ever seen, and I intend to do something about it.”

“What’s got you so riled up?”

“Riled up?” she echoed. “I’m damn mad! Get Mr. Thompson and come inside. I’ll show you.”

“George Thompson? What’s he got to—”

Liberty glanced back over her shoulder and saw that Mrs. Thompson and Harriet were no longer on the bench beside the door. Abruptly she spun on her heels and hurried toward the cabin.

Farr watched her until she disappeared inside. With a worried frown on his face he went to the barn to find George Thompson.

“G
et up off that bed! You’re not sick!”

Mrs. Thompson’s shrill voice reached Liberty and stirred the anger already boiling inside her. She hurried past Maude, Mrs. Brown and Dorrie Luscomb who were busily packing their baskets but paused to look questioningly at her. Liberty was angry, so angry that she was oblivious to them or anything except what was taking place inside the cabin.

Liberty went through the doorway and straight to the bunk where Willa sat. The girl was hunched miserably on the edge, her hands covering her face, her hair loose from its braid and clinging to her cheeks. Mrs. Thompson and Harriet stood over her.

“You’re nothin’ but a lazy, worthless strumpet. I warned you about bringin’ attention to yourself. You’re a servant, is what you are, and nothin’ else! We took you in, fed you, put up with your laziness and now you’ve shamed us. You’ve played on that woman’s sympathy, but you’ll regret it when I get you home. Get off that bed before I take a switch to you!”

Liberty took a long, slow breath to steady herself and spoke in a low, controlled voice. But every word came out and found its mark like a carefully aimed arrow.

“Mrs. Thompson! You are mean, and you are stupid if you think I’ll stand by and let you beat Willa one more time. You brought that sick girl here so you could flaunt your servant before the other women. Willa is not going back with you. She’s staying right here until she’s well.”

Both women spun around to face her. Mrs. Thompson’s face turned a mottled red, Harriet’s deadly white. For an endless moment they stood staring dumbly at the silver-haired, cold-eyed woman, their senses shocked by the anger and determination on her face. Mrs. Thompson opened her mouth and then closed it as if she were strangling.

“You . . . you—”

“Don’t you dare call
me
a slut, Mrs. Thompson! I’m not afraid of you. I’ll pull every hair out of your head, even if you are old enough to be my grandmother!”

“Why . . . why you,” Florence sputtered. “You’ve no right to interfere. We bought her. She belongs to me. She’ll do what I tell her to do or I’ll—”

“You’ll not beat her and you’ll not heap insults on her, either. She’s not a mule or a dog; she’s a person with feelings. You’ve treated her like dirt because you didn’t think she had anyone to take up for her. But she has me now, and I intend to see that everyone in the territory knows what you’ve done to her.” Liberty’s aroused voice overrode that of Mrs. Thompson who was spitting and sputtering with rage.

“Why, you . . . Harriet, get George.”

Liberty glanced over her shoulder. The doorway was filled with women and children, all watching and listening with rapt attention, shocked at the scene, but some had grins of admiration on their faces.

“Don’t bother, Harriet. I’ve already sent for Mr. Thompson. He’s coming now with Mr. Quill.” As she spoke Mr. Thompson squeezed through the doorway, followed by Farr.

“George! I’m glad you’re here.” Mrs. Thompson took a handkerchief from her sleeve and let it flutter before lifting it to blot the sweat from her face. “I’ve never been so insulted in all my life. This woman said that she’s going to take Willa away from us.”

“What? What’s going on here?” George Thompson’s worried eyes went from one woman to the other. “What’ve you been up to, Florence?”

“There you go! You always blame me when things go wrong. Ask her what she’s been up to.” She pointed a quivering finger at Liberty. “Ask this . . . this chippie—”

“I warned you before about calling me names. And I’ll do what I said if you don’t stop it.” Liberty’s sharp voice brought Mr. Thompson’s head around. She met his stare head-on with a determined stare of her own, glanced up at Farr, then back at George Thompson before she spoke. “I’ll tell you what your wife and your daughter have been up to. They have cruelly mistreated an indentured servant, which is against the law.” Liberty was surprised at her own tenacity. She didn’t know of any such law, but she spoke as confidently as if she did.

“What are you talking about?” Mr. Thompson demanded angrily. A dark red stained his weathered face and his small dark eyes went from Liberty to his wife and then to the quivering girl on the bunk.

“In New York State an indentured female servant can be released from servitude if it’s proven she has suffered bodily harm to the extent that her life is in danger. That is a well-known fact, Mr. Thompson.”

“Bodily harm? Hellfire!” George snorted. “First, I’ll remind you, young woman, this is Illinois and not New York State. Then I will also remind you to tend to your own business as Mr. Palmer suggested a while ago. We will take Willa home. If she’s sick, she’ll be taken care of.”

“She’s not just sick! And you’re not taking her back to be whipped and beaten like an animal by your wife and your fat, lazy daughter!”

“What are you talking about, Liberty?” This came from Farr. He watched as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing.

“I mean what I say, Farr. I’ll go to Vincennes to see the governor if I have to. These two women have beaten Willa until she’s so cowed and so weak she can hardly stand. I think she may even have broken ribs. If you men stand by and let a woman be so abused, you’re not worth much in my estimation.” Liberty folded her arms across her breast and stood glaring up at him.

“She’s lying!” Mrs. Thompson shouted, then turned her bulk so she could look at Farr. Harriet moved around behind her mother, held her palms to her pink cheeks and watched, her eyes round with fear. “Mr. Quill! Where did this terrible woman come from?”

“Beat Willa? Broken ribs? That’s ridiculous.” George Thompson looked outraged at the suggestion. “We’ve treated her well, Quill. No one’s laid a hand on her.”

“Does she have folk around here, George?”

“Not that I know of. We got her from some traveling people coming down from Vincennes. They were going on down to Cairo and needed traveling money. They said she was a docile girl and a good worker. She has two years to go before she’s paid her debt. I don’t know where this young woman got the idea we mistreated her.”

“If Willa said we did, she lied,” Florence stated confidently, a triumphant expression settling on her fat face.

“She didn’t
tell
me. She was afraid to. I could see for myself. You were very careful to strike her where the bruises wouldn’t show, weren’t you, Mrs. Thompson?” Liberty took a blanket from the end of the bunk and knelt down beside Willa who sat with her hands covering her face. Her back was erect as if it were too painful to bend over. “Willa, we’ll have to show them.”

“No, ma’am. Please don’t.”

“I’ll hold up the blanket while you pull up your dress,” Liberty whispered. “I want Mr. Quill and Mr. Thompson to see what they’ve done to you.”

“I can’t. It’ll just make it worse when I go back.”

“We’ve got to show them, Willa. It can’t be worse than it already is.” Liberty turned a determined face to Farr. “You’ll have to hold up the blanket so I can help her.”

Behind the blanket Farr held in his outstretched arms, Liberty helped Willa out of her dress. When she pulled on the shift, the thin, worn material tore and fell down around her ankles. The bruises and lacerations on the girl’s naked body were even worse than Liberty had at first believed. Across her breasts and buttocks were the crisscross cuts of a willow switch, and bruises, old and new, covered most of her torso.