Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (8 page)

“Colin . . .” When John put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, Colin flinched away, as if the hand were hot.

“What?” he said crossly.

“Something’s wrong here. It’s not my way to butt in to other folks’ business, but if there’s anything I can do to help, I will.”

“Ain’t nothin’ ya can do.” Colin turned his back and leaned against a stall railing.

“There might be. I can tell that Mrs. Hyde is troubled. That preacher riled her a-plenty. Lordy, she’s got a temper.”

“I ain’t never seen her so mad. That damned old Sikes is a . . . a mule’s ass!” Sobs clogged the boy’s throat.

“You’re probably right about that. What’s the old son of a bitch up to?”

“He’s . . . h-he’s gonna take me away from Miss Addie.”

“Take you? How can he do that? Is he kinfolk?”

“No!”

“Were you left in his care?” John asked gently.

“He says . . . he says our maw left us to the church.”

“How long have you been with Miss Addie?”

“Two years. She likes us—”

“There’s no doubt about that. It’s plain she thinks a heap of you and your sister.”

“She s-says I’m
her
. . . boy. Old Renshaw’s a . . . a bastard!”

Colin turned suddenly, threw his arms about John’s waist, and pressed his face against him. Deep racking sobs shook the boy.

Stunned, John stood there with his hands on the boy’s shoulders, not knowing what to say or do. He had once seen his mother cry like this, when his baby sister died. He was trying to think of comforting words to say when Trisha darted into the barn with the end of the rifle pointed right at him.

“Git away from ’im! I shoot ya dead, white man!”

Soft, tumbled black curls framed her face and cascaded about her shoulders. Her face could have been etched in stone except for her shining golden eyes. On bare feet, she stood poised and ready to strike. She was like the small, deadly copperhead snake so common in the Oklahoma Territory.

“Trisha! No!” Colin turned, his back against John, and held out his arms as if to protect him. “He ain’t done nothin’.”

“He got hold of ya—”

“He might . . . could do somethin’ to help—”

“Ha! Ain’t no
passerby
gonna do somethin’. This here gun’s gonna do somethin’.”

John grasped Colin’s shoulders and moved him aside. “You’ve been dead set on shooting me since I came here,” he said far more calmly than he felt. “I’m getting kind of tired of it.”

“I ain’t carin’ what yore tired of. Ya touch that boy and I blow yore head off.”

Colin went to Trisha, put his hand on the rifle barrel, and pushed it down.

“He ain’t done nothin’,” he said again.

“You sure as hell need help, lady. I was thinkin’ to offer,” John said. “Now I’m thinking I’d better hightail it out of here while I can still fork a horse.”

“Don’t go!” Colin blurted.

Trisha rested the stock of the rifle on the ground and glanced from one to the other with a puzzled look.

“Why you say that?” Her eyes honed in on Colin.

“I don’t know. Somebody’s got to help.”

“What’s this about the preacher taking Colin to someone named Renshaw? Is that what upset Mrs. Hyde?” John asked.

“He ain’t takin’ ’im! I kill that sucker first!” Trisha drew in a deep, quivering breath. Her nostrils flared angrily.

“Has Mrs. Hyde talked to a magistrate?”

“I ain’t knowin’ nothin’ ’bout that. I know preacher ain’t givin’ Colin to that ol’ piss-pot hockey-head to diddle with.”

“Diddle with?” John’s dark brows drew together.

Trisha threw up one hand and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Her expression was one of disgust.

“Are ya so dumb ya don’t know what
diddle
is?”

John continued to look at the girl. Then suddenly his eyes hardened and narrowed. The anger deep within him caught fire and flared.

“If you mean what I think you do, I’d like to have a private talk with Colin.” The dark blue eyes holding Trisha’s did not waver. Neither did her golden ones.

“Ya hurt him, I kill ya.”

“Fair enough.”

“Miss Addie say come to dinner.”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Colin?”

“Yeah. In a minute.”

Trisha turned and ran lightly from the barn.

*  *  *

“You will sit in your usual place,” Addie said in answer to her son’s question. “Mr. Tallman will sit beside Colin. Put the knife and fork alongside the plate, Jane Ann. Oh, Trisha, are they coming?” she asked when the girl came in from the porch.

“In a minute,” she said crossly, and stood the rifle in the corner.

“Is something wrong?”

“Colin likes that . . .
passerby.
”

“That worries you?” Addie came closer to murmur so that the children wouldn’t hear.

“Yeah. Could be he ain’t fittin’ for crowbait.”

“Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. He did a lot of work here this morning.
Dillon!
” Addie caught her son’s arm as he ran by her. “No running in the house. After dinner you and Jane Ann can chase yourselves silly—outside. You’d better go to the outhouse, then come in and wash up.”

“You don’t tell Jane Ann to go to the outhouse.”

“Jane Ann is old enough to know when she needs to go.”

“Me too.”

“Not always. Sometimes you put it off until it’s almost too late.”

Grumbling, Dillon went out and Addie followed him to the porch. Just as she suspected, her son was pulling his suspenders off over his shoulders, preparing to let down his britches.

“Dillon Hyde! Don’t you dare do it in the yard! Get to the outhouse or no bread pudding for you, young man. Hear?”

Addie was tired. The preacher’s morning visit had drained her of energy. Too, she and Trisha had dug up a bucketful of little new potatoes, which she had washed at the well. They were now boiling on the stove, as were the collards, with a bit of smoked meat for flavor.

Lord, what would she do if the preacher and a group of men came to get Colin? She firmly intended to hold them off with the gun if necessary. But then what? Would Sikes go to the magistrate and demand that she turn Colin over to him? He wouldn’t back down now and lose face with his flock. That much was certain.

The thought of selling out to Mr. Birdsall had been in the back of her mind since morning. It would be a miracle if she could collect the money, load her family into the wagon, and get away before Sikes took action. She would gladly leave this place if it would mean she could keep Colin and Jane Ann. The tears that had been close to her eyes since morning were about to appear once again. She tossed her head and willed herself not to think about it any more until she, Trisha, and Colin could sit down and plan what to do.

John took one look at the table and realized that Addie Hyde was serving him the best she had. After they were seated, Addie again said grace, then passed around a plate of hot cornbread squares. The children, he noticed, were well behaved. Their manners at the table were better than some he had seen in fancy hotel dining rooms and public restaurants.

“Mr. Tallman, we’re obliged to you for fixing the fence and especially for repairing the chicken house,” Addie said, after the plates were filled and they had begun to eat.

“I couldn’t have done much without Colin. My back just happens to be stronger than his, or he could have done it without me.”

“Do you have a little girl?” Jane Ann asked.

“No, but one of my sisters has two girls and the other has one. One of them is about your age.”

“What’s her name?”

“Her name is Tennessee, but she’s called Tenny.”

“What an unusual name,” Addie said.

“She was named after Tennessee Hoffman, a little girl who saved my mother’s life. The father of the child, Mr. Hoffman, was a Frenchman with a sense of humor; his wife was a Shawnee. They named their daughters after the states they were born in. Tennessee’s two sisters were named Virginia and Florida.”

“I believe there’s a story here, Mr. Tallman. We’d be delighted to hear it, wouldn’t we, children? But let’s let Mr. Tallman finish his meal first.”

Addie dished out the bread pudding and it was eaten quickly. The children loved a story. Sometimes during the long winter evenings Trisha and Addie took turns making up stories to entertain them.

“Are ya through yet?” Jane Ann asked as soon John had taken his last bite.

“Yes, but . . .” He looked at Addie.

“Please. That is, if you don’t mind.”

“There’s no secret about it. It’s just that I’m not much of a talker.”

“You seem to be doing just fine.”

John shrugged and began.

“My mother and the rest of the family will be forever grateful to the little girl whose name was Tennessee for saving her from being carried off into the wilderness, possibly never to see her family again. It happened a long time ago; before my mother and my father were married. My father, Rain Tallman, was escorting a lady from Quill’s Station on the Wabash to Fort Smith on the Arkansas. My mother had gone along as companion to the lady who was to marry the fort commander.

“The party had stopped to rest for a day or two at Davidsonville, a small settlement on the Black River. Tennessee’s father had a trading post there. One day my mother and the other lady went down to the river to bathe and wash clothes. While there, they were taken captive by a renegade trapper by the name of Antoine Efant.

“Tennessee, who was about eleven years old then, saw the women taken and saw Efant and his party ride their horses into the river. She knew they were doing this to make it difficult for my father to track them. Keeping to the woods, she ran alongside the river to see where they would come out of the water. Although her feet were cut and bleeding and her face and arms scratched from going through the brush, she followed for miles and miles. Finally, when Efant and his party left the water and took off cross-country, Tennessee ran back to the settlement.

“By that time my father had discovered the women were missing. Tennessee was able to tell him where the captors had come out of the river, saving them hours of searching the riverbanks. Having been trained by John Spotted Elk, his stepfather, my father was able to follow. Both women were rescued the day after they were taken, thanks to Tennessee’s quick thinking. My mother and father were married, right there in Davidsonville.”

“What happened to the mean man?” Jane Ann asked.

“My father killed him.”

“I’m glad!”

“He’s mean like old Renshaw!” This, from Dillon.

Addie looked at her son in surprise. It occurred to her that he must be more aware of what was going on than she realized.

“And Tennessee?” Addie couldn’t help but ask. “Did your mother see her again?”

“Oh, yes. Later she came to Quill’s Station with Eleanor and Gavin McCourtney, the lady who had been captured with my mother. Tennessee married Mike Hartman, a friend of my father’s. They still live in Quill’s Station. I saw her only a month ago.”

During the meal Trisha said not a word, but while John was telling the story, she kept her magnificent eyes on his face, judging him, he knew, for some reason of her own.

“Thanks for another really good meal, Mrs. Hyde. I’ll be leaving, but first I’d like to have a word with you alone.” John got up from the table. “Miss Trisha can keep an eye on me from the porch,” he added with a half-smile.

Colin stood behind his chair, his eyes on John’s face.

“ ’Bye, Mr. Tallman. I liked the story,” Jane Ann said.

“He’ll not be leaving for a few minutes,” Addie said. “You’ll have time to say goodbye.” She followed John to the door, which he opened for her, then he followed her out. Addie went to the well, where she turned. “What’s on your mind, Mr. Tallman?”

“The trouble you’re having here.”

“That’s no concern of yours. I’m truly embarrassed that you witnessed . . . what you did this morning.”

“The preacher wants to put Colin and Jane Ann in another home,” he said flatly, leaving no room for denial.

“You’ve been talking to Colin.”

“Yes. I’ll help if I can.”

“Why?”

“Because that boy is being torn apart.”

“I know that. Trisha and I will take care of it.”

“Have you talked to the magistrate?” he asked.

“No.”

“For God’s sake! Why not?”

“Because he won’t turn the children over to me—a woman alone who at times can scarcely feed her own child! He’ll be duty-bound to . . . do what Preacher Sikes wants.”

“You’re not going to fight to keep that boy out of the hands of a man like Renshaw?”

“You’re damn right I’m going to fight!” Addie’s temper flared.

“Then you have an idea of what kind of man he is?”

“Yes, I know.” Tears filled her eyes, but she denied them and lifted her chin.

“I’ll talk to the magistrate,” John offered.

“Why would you do that?”

“For Colin.”

“We don’t know you, Mr. Tallman. We’ve gotten along quite well here on our own. We don’t need your interference, well intentioned as it may be, in our affairs.”

“You don’t want to accept my help because you don’t know me? That’s the dumbest reason I ever heard. Lady, when you’re in trouble you take help where you can get it.”

“Don’t get any ideas about taking Colin away with you.”

“Christ!”

“When I was growing up, I dreamed of having a brother or sister. I never did. I intend to keep this brother and sister together until they’re old enough to make plans for themselves.” Addie’s voice quivered, and her jaws snapped shut when she finished speaking.

For a long moment their eyes locked—blazing violet burning into dark blue fire. A thought came to John that immediately doused his anger and caused him to smile. He remembered his father saying that John Spotted Elk had said that a woman needed taming like a horse. Keep a strong hand on the bridle, pet them a little, and they would not mind the halter. But let them get the bit in their teeth, and they would make a man miserable and themselves too.

His smile seemed to make Addie all the more angry. Silence swirled around them as their eyes did battle.

“I’m sorry if I riled you, Mrs. Hyde. It isn’t often that I offer my services to a lady. If they’re not wanted . . .” He turned to walk away.