by Norah Hess
"Do you think he means it?"
"I think he does. He's been suspicionin' me for a long time. I think he's just been waitin' for sure proof."
"Do you have any folks to go to?"
"No. No one. I was a bonded girl when Abe married me. He bought my papers from a Mr. Grover over in Merryville."
Mike mulled the new problem over in his mind. If Abe threw Meg out, there could be one hell of a mess raised. Meg would go to Darcey no doubt and tell her everything in the hopes of getting Jarvis back. And Jarvis would probably kill her.
He could think of only one solution. Reluctantly, he said, "Don't worry about it, Meg. If Abe kicks you out, you can move in with me. I won't marry you, but I'll give the child a home."
She stared at him for a long moment. "You're not the same cold man I used to be afraid of."
At his surprised look, she nodded her head. "It's true. I used to be scared to death of you. Even when I was enjoying you, I would be afraid I'd do somethin' wrong and you'd whack me one."
His only comment was a growled, "Don't go gettin' soft in the head, Meg. I ain't changed a bit. I just don't want a Delaney youngin' runnin' around without a home. You ain't got a thing to do with it."
"Anyhow, I'm grateful, Mike. I didn't know which way to turn."
He studied her a moment, debating how to tell her of the condition he meant to tie to his offer. Hell. He'd tell her any damn way he pleased.
"No need to thank me, Meg. Anyhow, what I'm gonna say to you now may make you refuse my offer."
She looked at him questioningly. "Oh?"
"If I ever catch you with Jarvis, I'll gut shoot the both of you."
She frowned, and a sullen look came over her face. She hadn't counted on this. But one look at his face, and she knew he would carry out his threat. Slowly she nodded her head.
"Good."
"Now I don't expect you to go without your pleasurin', Meg, so after the baby is borned and you want to court with some man and maybe marry again, that's perfectly all right with me. But I want you to understand clearly that there will be no more whorin' around for you."
Meg looked away from his black eyes. She had always been aware that Mike didn't like her. Often she had felt that he didn't even want to touch her. And when he was drunk, he had been quite frank with his insults.
She felt his boring stare and hurried to nod her head. "I'll do as you say about other men. And if Jarvis don't come lookin' for me, I'll not go lookin' for him."
Mike was satisfied. He was sure that Jarvis wouldn't come looking for her. "That's where you were today, wasn't it, Meg? Over at the old cabin lookin' for the whelp?"
She dropped her eyes and mumbled, "Yes."
"You go on home now and behave yourself. Maybe old Abe won't kick you out then."
She looked at him surprised, then asked haltingly, "Is that all? Don't you want to do anything?"
He knew she wanted him, was probably in a bad way. She most likely hadn't had a man for some time. But she thoroughly repulsed him, and he shook his head.
For a while he thought that she was going to ask him right out to lay with her. But finally she looked away and then left without a word.
He relaxed against a tree and watched her waddle out of sight. He sighed. He had solved one problem for Darcey. Then the full impact of what he had done hit him. At what expense to himself had he accomplished it?
His shoulders drooped wearily. He thought of Sarie and needed her. He needed to talk to her, tell her of his foolish offer to Meg. A smile tugged at his lips. She would rale out at him at first, but then she would take him in her arms and make him forget for a time.
But he couldn't go tonight, he remembered. There was something important he had to do tomorrow, and drinking and laying with Sarie tonight might dull his senses.
Picking up the rifle and axe, he hunched his back to the foggy cold and made his way home.
CHAPTER 15
Darcey resisted Cindy's voice calling her. In sleep there was blessed peace. But it was too late. She was almost awake, and the familiar sounds in the cabin pulled her back into its world. She lay a moment staring up at the rafters, dreading to leave the warmth of the blankets.
But Cindy's voice came again. "Did you promise to go huntin' with Jim and Charlie today?"
Pulled out of her lethargy, she scrambled out of bed. She had forgotten. Shivering as the chill of the loft penetrated her gown, she searched through drawers, looking for the warm clothing that Jim had ordered. As her cold fingers fumbled with stubborn buttons, she called out, "I'll be right down."
Downstairs she quickly splashed water on her face and smiled at the fidgeting Jim. "I won't bother to brush my hair. I'll just tie a scarf around it."
She grabbed some bacon and cold biscuits off the table and stuffed them in her mouth. Cindy glowered at her. "That's no proper meal to put in your belly the first thing in the morning."
"It won't hurt just this once," Darcey soothed, and gulped a cup of coffee. "We'll be eating on the trip," she added.
"What do you mean, 'on the trip'? How long you gonna be gone, girl?"
Grinning impishly at Jim, Darcey winked and gave a slight nod toward the door. "Just a couple of days, Cindy," she answered, and then the three were darting out of the room, slamming the door shut.
Outraged and spluttering, Cindy rushed to the door and fumbled with the latch. But it was stuck and, swearing under her breath, she kicked at it. When finally it opened, Darcey and the boys were out of sight.
She stood on the porch, her fists on her broad hips. "Just wait 'til she gets her runty ass home. She's not too old to still get a good whack."
In a mood of recklessness brought on by Cindy's teasing, the three thundered through the forest as fast as the gear swinging on their arms would allow. When they felt that they were safely out of the hearing and vision of the irate black woman, they stopped to sling the packs on their backs.
They traveled the muddy trail for a mile or so, their feet making sucking noises as their boots sank in and out of the mire. Later, they broke off the main branch and walked single file on a deer path.
When the sun was almost overhead, they reached the biggest boulder that Darcey had ever seen. It was six times the height of her cabin and four times as wide.
"That's called Weeping Rock, Darcey," Jim said, pointing to the huge jutting formation. "About twenty years ago there was a terrible fight between the Indians and whites. A lot of men on both sides was killed, and it's said that the women—both red and white—cried so hard, the settlers gave it that name."
"I think the name suits," Darcey said, staring up at its lofty height. "It looks sad, somehow. Sitting there all by itself."
They ate their lunch at the base of the rock, and Jim told them other Indian stories as they chewed on jerked venison.
When they moved on, traveling in a northeasterly direction now, light chatter went on between them. At one point, Darcey remembered that she hadn't told Jarvis about the trip. They howled with laughter, describing to each other how angry he would be when he discovered she was gone.
When their laughter subsided, Charlie asked gravely, "You ain't gonna marry him are you, Darcey?"
She looked back and smiled. "It's not likely."
They reached their destination at dusk as Jim had planned they would. It was a beautiful spot, a slumbering peace surrounding it.
"Ain't it somethin' to see?" Jim asked. "Me and Mike are the only ones that know about it."
Her heart ached. "Do you think that your brother will mind that you brought me here?"
"Naw. I told him I was bringin' you, and he didn't say anything. Just kinda looked funny."
Probably mad about it, she thought.
They turned to making camp. Charlie started a fire, and Darcey filled the coffee pot at a small spring. Adding coffee grounds, she set it on the fire and then sliced salt pork into a frying pan.
Jim had gone off with his hatchet and soon returned with his arms full
of soft, fragrant pine boughs. He arranged them on the ground and spread half the blankets over them.
Darcey watched him and marveled at his skill. She knew that the possibility of his being aroused while he slept alongside her had never entered his mind. To him, she belonged to his brother, and that made her sexless in his eyes.
They ate the crisp salt pork and cold corn-dodger with a gusty appetite, telling each other it was the best meal they had ever eaten.
Darkness had fallen as they ate, and now Jim eyed the stack of branches that Charlie had gathered and hoped that it would see them through the night. He did not want to awaken later on with the fire gone dead and a circle of wolves eyeing them hungrily.
Camp chores finished, they settled around the fire, the three of them glad of its heat. They talked quietly among themselves for a while; then the hush of the night fell over them, and they too became silent.
Suddenly with an alarming clarity, it came to Darcey just how alone they were in this vast unending forest. They were three souls, miles from any other human being.
She glanced at her two companions and worried if they would be capable of handling any emergencies that could arise. Watching Jim puff comfortably on his pipe while his eyes stared dreamingly into the fire, she wondered if he could fight off a pack of wolves or even Indians. And certainly Charlie, sitting close beside her whittling on a piece of wood and humming a tuneless song, could do very little if either occasion arose.
"I'll be glad when this night is over," she said to herself.
Later, after they had crawled between the scratchy blankets, the gentle snores on either side of her had been sounding for some time before she fell into a fitful sleep.
It was approaching dawn when she awoke suddenly. She lay quietly, looking up at the sky and listening intently. All was deathly quiet.
But now her nostrils had picked up a decidedly offensive scent. The mixed odor of stale sweat, spoiled meat, and some undetermined substance was stronger with each breath she drew. Slowly she raised her hand to the top of her head and groped for the touch of Yeller. He had been there when she had fallen asleep. But now her fingers found only open space; Yeller was gone.
Jim continued to snore beside her, and Charlie's breathing was deep and even. She debated awakening them, then hesitated. If her fears were proven unfounded, she would never hear the end of it.
The rancid odor had become almost overwhelming, and she rose on an elbow to look around. Her close survey of the camp site revealed nothing out of the ordinary.
But as she swiveled her head to look behind, a hand with fingers of steel, clamped over her mouth, pushing her head back onto the blankets. She lay stunned, only one thought filling her horrified mind. She must lay absolutely quiet and wait for the chance to awaken Jim. If she struggled now it could mean the death of them all.
Her heart stopped, fluttered, and then raced on when her eyes fell on the copper-skinned body crouched at her head.
"Dear, Lord," she cried silently. "He's going to kill us."
The fire flared up briefly and caught the gleam of an ugly-looking knife clutched in a red hand. And when his other hand entangled its self in the thickness of her hair, she waited, petrified, for the feel of the cold blade upon her forehead.
But horrible moments continued to pass as the savage, a look of admiration on his face, raised a strand to examine it closely.
Suddenly he sensed her eyes upon him and, without warning, her hair was free and the knife was held high, poised to come plunging into her breast. Released from her terror by the necessity of fighting for her life, she swung her head back and forth and clawed at the iron hand laid across her mouth. As she thrashed about, she was dimly aware of Jim and Charlie springing up and cursing wildly as they scrambled for their rifles.
When she thought that all was lost and prepared herself for the inevitable, a broad-shouldered figure rose out of nowhere. Faster than lightning, an arm went around the Indian's neck, and a wicked-looking hunting knife drove deep into the red-skinned chest.
As the savage groaned and slumped to the ground, Darcey cried out, "Oh, Mike," and fainted.
She came to, cradled in his arms, with Jim bathing her face. Mike saw her staring at him and smiled. "You had quite a scare, didn't you?"
She nodded dumbly, and he laid her back down and turned to Jim. "She'll be all right now. Charlie, you stay here with her. Jim, come with me. We've got to bury this varmint right away. He's from a hunting party that's out shooting deer for the British army. If they find this one dead, they're liable to go on the war path and maybe hit the settlement."
When Mike and Jim had gone, Charlie came and sat close to Darcey. A tremor in his voice, he asked, "Do you think the others might come, Darcey?"
She patted his knee. "Don't worry about it, Charlie. Mike is here now. He won't let anything happen to us."
But when Jim returned, only Yeller walked beside him. "Look at this ole scally-wag. Been chasin' deer all night and is plumb wore out."
Darcey's eyes looked beyond him. Where was Mike? Jim saw her look and said, "Mike has gone on home. He said that we are safe enough now, but that we'd better not stay another night. He said them redskins will be back tomorrow night, lookin' for the one he killed."
Darcey sat stunned, not wanting to believe that Mike had left without even saying good-bye. She had been so sure that he would stay with them, that in the long hours spent together they would patch up their misunderstanding.
"He certainly got over me fast enough," she thought. "But if that's the way it is, then to hell with him," she added angrily.
It was almost daylight, and since no one wanted to go back to bed, Jim piled more wood on the fire and they sat close together until the sun rolled over the timberline and chased away the frightening shadows.
Darcey's jaw hurt, and Charlie said that it was turning blue. Jim examined the delicate chin and jaw and remarked, "It's a wonder he didn't break your jaw bone. You're gonna carry some bruises for a while."
"Great. That's just what I need. Cindy won't let me out of her sight now."
"Tell her you fell out of a tree," Charlie suggested.
"Charlie, you idiot," Jim said disgustedly. "Cindy wouldn't believe that Darcey was climbin' trees. But you could tell her that you fell down and hit your chin on a rock," he added.
"I think I'd better. She's going to be mad anyhow when I get home. All I'd have to do is tell her I was almost killed by an Indian and she'd really tear loose."
"Do you think that Cindy will hit you?" Charlie asked, his face full of concern.
Darcey and Jim roared their laughter. "I'll get a tongue-lashing from her, but I doubt if I'll get the other kind," Darcey managed to say.
Jim whacked the lad on the shoulder. "What's wrong with you, Charlie? Darcey ain't a youngin' like you. She's a grown woman."
Charlie grinned sheepishly. "Yeah. Sometimes I forget."
Darcey laughed and gave him a quick hug.
They ate breakfast quickly, and in a short time they were on the hunt. They found a narrow path riddled with the sharp, pointed prints of tiny deer hooves. After a while, Jim left the path and stationed himself behind a large oak. He motioned for Darcey and Charlie to do the same, then turned to the dog. "Go flush me out one, old man."
Yeller's nose went down, and he was off through the forest, whining eagerly. In a short time his long drawn-out yowl broke the silence.
There was a crashing and trampling to the right of them, and Darcey peered from behind her tree. A beautiful young buck, his horns in the first velvet, stared at her out of soft, brown eyes. For a moment she wanted to scare it away to save its life. Then without warning, and much crashing, it thundered through the forest straight for Jim. He barely had enough time to raise his rifle and aim for the soft spot between its eyes.
The shot of the rifle echoed through the timber, and the deer lay thrashing on the ground, blood running from its nose and mouth, staining the ground.
They ran
forward and stared down at the slain animal. Jim looked at Darcey, smiling proudly. "He'll make good eatin', Darcey. He's as fat as butter."
She looked down at the stilled animal and shook her head sadly. "The folks will be glad, Jim."
Jim quickly dressed the deer and fastened its feet to a long sturdy pole. Then he sent Charlie into the deeper, shadier part of the forest to gather some of the long feathery ferns that grew there.
"To wrap the deer in," he explained to Darcey. "The flies will spoil the meat if they get to it."
She watched him expertly fill the cavity with greenery and then wrap the liver separately. "We'll have this for lunch," he explained.
It was late morning when they returned to camp. They debated whether to eat an early lunch and then start for home or to leave immediately, stopping to eat when they became hungry. Darcey, still feeling the presence of the dead Indian, voted they start home right away. Jim, understanding her reluctance to stay, agreed.
As Charlie and Jim swung the pole onto their shoulders, Darcey followed along behind them sighing a little. She dreaded the business of returning and facing life again.
CHAPTER 16
After the long spring rains, a rich, dark green spread over the ridges and valleys, and everything was growing fast with promise. A warm, dry wind had been blowing for several days, melting away the frost line and drying out the soil. Simon's crops were in. He had started working his fields before the frost was completely out of the ground.
Today, he worked on the cabin. He was in the process of adding on Cindy's kitchen. Darcey stood on the porch watching him. His skinny, muscular arms pushed and shoved, lining up the logs. Rivulets of sweat ran down his face from the effort.
The added room would be a large one when it was finished. It was the width of the cabin and extended about four feet beyond the porch. It was fourteen feet deep, and Cindy was as proud as a peacock of its size, and also of the fact that it would boast two windows. For the time being, and until the war was over, oiled paper would replace the glass. For the winter months, Simon would make shutters for them.