by Norah Hess
Then Abe turned to the open-mouthed crowd and addressed his next words to them. "Neighbors, I want you to hear me. I'm kickin' this slut out of my house. That youngin' she's carrying ain't mine, and I won't have neither one of them in my home."
In the dead silence, he reached behind a bench and pulled out a paper wrapped bundle and threw it at Meg's feet.
"There's your duds, you dirty whore. I don't want to see your face around my place ever again."
He slapped his coonskin onto his head and stamped out of the schoolhouse. As his retreating back disappeared in the darkness, all eyes swung back to Meg.
She sat back down, and more than ever she looked like a trapped animal looking for a hole to scamper into. She knew that she would find little if any sympathy in this roomful of people, and her eyes shifted in all directions, searching for a face that might hold a glimmer of pity.
Then her eyes found Jarvis and held. Darcey felt the swift tensing of his arm, and from lowered lashes she watched him deliberately look away from the pleading in Meg's eyes. She cursed him mentally for being a miserable coward.
Darcey glanced around the sea of faces and saw all emotions displayed there. Most of the women showed smug satisfaction. Long had Meg made them suffer, and now revenge was sweet.
A few of the women, the ones who trusted their husbands, felt a twinge of pity for her, but not enough to come to her aid.
The men looked at her leeringly and knowingly. Most of them had been visitors at the barn at one time or the other and were planning on it again in the near future. As one man had put it, "I'm gettin' tired of paying Molly's high prices when good ole Meg is givin' it away."
Then Darcey stifled a cry, and Clara's arm came around her waist. Mike had appeared out of the crowd, carrying Meg's shabby coat. He placed it around her shoulders and said quietly, "Come on, Meg, we'll go home now."
Only Clara heard Darcey whisper, "Oh no."
As Mike and Meg left without a backward look, Clara's eyes misted with love and pride for the young girl as she watched her stiffen her slim shoulders and raise her head proudly. "Her breeding shows," she thought, "but her tears will fall when she's alone."
A low rumble of voices swelled the room as a hill woman closed the door on the pair. The women laughed and discussed Meg's come-uppance, while the men made snide remarks about the entire affair.
Darcey felt bad that Clara had to hear the unflattering remarks made about her favorite brother and hoped that she heard the occasional good word in his defense.
Once some man said in a firm voice, "By God, you'll never make me believe that the youngin' she's carrying is Mike Delaney's. He's too proud of the Delaney name to put his seed in somethin' like Meg Johnson." Darcey could have kissed him.
Amid the hubbub of noise Darcey and Clara sat alone. Jarvis had left them immediately on the closing of the door. Darcey watched him now as he talked and laughed with a group of men. Knowing his pettiness so well, she knew that his remarks were more demeaning than any other man's. She repressed the desire to walk over to him and slap his handsome face.
"Jarvis received two strikes against himself tonight," she thought. Twice he shrank from responsibility. Once for each woman in his life.
She sighed in relief when Bill motioned for the fiddler to strike up a tune. She and Clara would be unable to hear the comments over the music and dancing. And with an outside bravado and a screaming agony inside, she sat with a smile glued on her face.
Then suddenly, Jarvis was at her side. "Would you like to go home now, Darcey?"
She stared at him in surprise and wondered what had brought on this notion. The evening was still young, and Mike had left. All at once, she knew why he wanted to go home. He wanted to leave because Mike was gone.
Across the room, she noticed a group of hard-faced young men ogling her and she knew that they only waited to get up enough nerve to approach her. She was sure that Jarvis knew this also.
But whatever his reason, she would be glad to leave. She nodded yes and said good-bye to Clara.
The ride home seemed endless and, to worsen the situation, when they finally reached the cabin, Jarvis was determined that he would come in for a while. But Darcey was equally determined that he wouldn't and had Simon on her side as leverage. Jarvis angrily unsaddled her horse and with a surly "Good night," remounted his own and rode away.
She leaned against the railing of the porch and listened to the hooves fade and finally die. She sighed. "You're not the only one that was disappointed tonight, my friend."
CHAPTER 17
Sarie had not been one of the women crowded at the window that early evening when Darcey had peered so hard. She had been in the back room, bathing and making herself as attractive as possible. She had a feeling that Mike would attend the dance and then go to Molly's to spend the rest of the evening with her.
However, it would be untrue to say that she hadn't been at the window at all. She had been there for a moment. When one of the girls had exclaimed, "Here comes that high and mighty widow," she had pushed her way to the window to see the woman Mike worshipped.
When she saw the lovely vision sitting on the roan mare, she was sorry she had looked. What chance did a plain-looking woman like herself have to compete with a woman like that? Mike would love that female, married or single, for the rest of his life.
Sighing resignedly, she had returned to the washroom to finish her toilette, consoling herself with the thought that at least she had him physically.
Sarie liked this new world she lived in. She had taken to the gruff, good-natured Molly after a while, and the nightly partying that went on was a constant source of surprise and pleasure for her. She still marveled that there was so much laughter in the world.
Her past life had consisted of a greedy, fretful mother, a drunken father, hungry whining children, and a beastly uncle. There had been little laughter in it. Even Mike did not laugh often.
Then there were all the new clothes. The bright gaudy dresses that she wore now were a balm to her color-hungry soul. The other girls poked good-natured fun at her because she changed her dresses so often. But to a woman who had never had more than a change of homespuns, the suddenly acquired finery was like a new toy to a child. She kept them in perfect shape, and there was never a spot on one of them.
She had blossomed like a flower. Three good meals a day had put a rosy glow on her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes. The pleasant companionship of the women had pulled her out of her shell and gradually the hated winters with Jake faded from her memory.
She was soon a favorite at Molly's. Since she knew every way to please a man, she became Molly's number one girl and made more money than all the others together.
It wasn't only her ability in bed that drew the men. They also liked her even nature and understanding. The men who could afford it paid the high price that let them keep her for an entire evening. And, surprisingly enough, the biggest part of the evening was often spent in pleasant conversation. Many would speak of their problems and ask her advice.
It was rumored that a man who was very high in politics often traveled a long distance to share Sarie's bed and relaxing ways. If this was true, Sarie never admitted it.
Much of her money she sent home. But the majority was set aside to fulfill a dream that was close to her heart. She had a young sister whom she loved dearly. It was her ambition to get the girl away from their mother before she was handed over to Jake. The thought that he might someday use the delicate Dorie as he had used her was more than she could stand.
The last time Jake had come to the valley to get her, she had grown cold when she saw his eyes running over Dorie's young, budding body.
Dorie was fourteen and promised to be a little beauty. With half a chance, she could make a good marriage and have a decent life. But their greedy mother, always in need of money, would eventually make her go off with Jake.
Dreading the approach of fall and what it might mean to the young sister, she had talk
ed to Mike. His remedy had been a simple one, and she wondered why she hadn't thought of it herself. She had immediately sat down and written a letter to her mother.
It was short and to the point. If her mother made Dorie go off with Jake, she would send her no more money.
She prayed nightly that the threat of withheld money would keep Dorie safe until she could make arrangements for her removal.
She had never told her mother the nature of her work. She had written that she was doing farm work for an elderly couple in northern Kentucky. She didn't intend for them to know where she lived either. If they did, her parents would constantly ask her for money and at the same time demean her for the trade that put the money in their hands.
In Sarie's opinion her mother was nothing more than a whining, hypocritical bitch. She would never forget the aftermath of her first winter with Jake. On her return home that spring, she had immediately sobbed out her story of the terrible things done to her. She had been bewildered when her mother, instead of flying into a justifiable rage, had slapped her across the face. She had shouted that Sarie should be ashamed of herself for telling such lies about her uncle, that she was nothing but a lazy bitch who didn't want to work. She had ended by saying that she didn't want to hear another word about it.
She had felt at the time that her mother lied, and later that night she had the proof. When Jake had asked permission to share her bed, her mother had readily assented.
Only a deaf mute would have been unaware of what went on that night. The noise that Jake made as he abused and degraded her made her ashamed to look at anyone the next morning.
What had shamed and saddened her the most was that her parents lay only a few feet away and had allowed it to happen.
She could thank Mike for being able to keep her whereabouts unknown. He gave her letters to a passing acquaintance, requesting that they say only that he had received it upstate.
Mike's visits were big events in her life. He came at least once a week and sometimes more often. It was the times when he came looking low and desperate that were pure hell for her. Soon he would get drunk, and when he made love to her, he would murmur Darcey Stevens's name and words of endearment would flow until she wanted to scream.
And when he would call out Darcey's name, she hated the beautiful woman with a cold fury. "If only that heartless bitch would leave the hills, I could make him happy," she would whisper to herself.
She knew that he liked her as a person and that she suited him perfectly in bed. He never asked for any of the other girls, and it was understood in the house that she was Mike's girl. She had been surprised to hear that the girls were relieved about this and found it hard to believe some of the stories they told about him.
Of his brother Jarvis she would believe anything. He too asked for her when he came to Molly's, and after spending time with him, she felt like she had been with Jake again. He was just as demeaning, and she was glad that he came seldom.
It was rumored among the girls that he regularly saw a Meg Johnson and that she was carrying his baby. They wondered out loud what the snooty widow would do if she ever found out.
Sarie wondered what Mike would say about it. Meg Johnson lived with him now. She knew that nothing went on between them, but she knew that Mike would raise hell if he knew his precious Darcey was being treated so shabbily.
CHAPTER 18
Mike stood peering out of the window at the rainy world. He wondered what Darcey was doing. He had not seen her since the night of the spring dance, that crazy night when he had brought Meg home with him.
That had been the mistake of his life. She thought that he meant to share her bed. But he could not bring himself to touch her. Besides not liking her, she was filthy. The odor of her unwashed body and soiled underclothes was nauseating, and on damp days like this, the cabin stank of her presence.
He laid his head on his folded arms and thought of his unbearable situation. "I can't put up with her much longer. When the baby comes, she must go."
Her whining voice came from the bed, and an angry aggravation spread through him. "Mike, why don't you lay down for a while?"
He looked at her for a long moment, his face going heavy with the contempt he felt for her. "You lazy bitch, still in bed at this hour. Why don't you get up and clean this filthy place?"
His eyes traveled over the small room, and he remembered sadly how neat the small room had once been. Dirty linens were scattered about and last night's dishes were still piled on the table. Total disorder dominated the room.
Meg answered in an ingratiating voice. "I was fixin' to do that, Mike. But first, why don't you lay with me for a while. There ain't nothin' you can do out there in the rain."
He returned his gaze to the steadily falling rain and said sarcastically, "There ain't nothin' in here I want to do."
Meg's face went red with anger. "If that Stevens bitch was here, you'd hop in bed fast enough," she cried.
Mike didn't remember walking to the bed, but suddenly he was there and Meg lay sprawled on the covers, a trickle of blood running from the corner of her mouth.
"You rotten, smelly bitch," he panted. "Don't you ever say her name again."
He stared down at her and added, "If you want to know the truth, I'd crawl on my hands and knees all day if I knew that I could crawl in bed with her at night."
Meg stared back, her eyes wide with fright. The intense hate that shone out of his eyes warned her not to speak the rest of her thoughts.
She breathed in relief when he walked toward the door.
Hatless and coatless Mike stormed out the door and walked through the driving rain toward Clara's. He always looked to his sister for guidance and sometimes just seeing her calm and unruffled features was the balm he needed. His nerves were raw, and he needed her company badly today.
Shivering in his wet clothing, he arrived and kicked at the scrawny chickens huddled on her porch. Squaring his shoulders and trying to strike a casual attitude, he lifted the latch and entered.
The glowing warmth of the cabin was a welcome relief to his chilled body, but Clara's and Jim's smiles warmed him most.
Noting the freshly scrubbed floor, he reached down and removed his moccasins before sitting beside the fire. He smiled and remarked, "I sure picked a fine day to come visiting."
Pleasure shining out of his eyes, Jim exclaimed, "Any day is a good day for a visit from you, Mike."
Mike smiled sheepishly. He had let his young brother down lately, and he was gratified that devotion was still offered to him. He promised himself that he would make it up to Jim. They would go coon hunting one night next week. There would be a hunter's moon by then.
Clara had been studying Mike, taking in the new leanness of his face and the barely hidden despair in his eyes. Poor fellow, she thought as she asked, "Where in the world are your coat and hat? It's raining cats and dogs out there."
There was a visible nervousness about him as he replied, "What's the difference? A little rain ain't gonna melt an ugly devil like me."
Clara shook her head. "Ah, Mike, you're nine kinds of a fool."
He looked at her in surprise. "Now why do you say that, Clara?"
"You know why I say it. Taking that Meg Johnson in your home. I know as well as I'm sitting here that baby in her belly ain't yours." She rocked a minute, then added, "You've ruined any chance you had of ever marryin' some girl you love."
For a long moment he stared glumly into the flames. His voice carried a hopelessness in it when he answered, "Ah, Clara, why don't you give up on me?"
When Clara didn't answer, he added, "As for marryin' a woman I love, that will never happen to me."
Clara didn't miss the unconscious wistfulness in his voice, and she debated telling him that she suspected Darcey Stevens loved him. But she was reluctant to become involved in the affair. She hated to cause bad blood between the brothers.
She was spared the decision as Bill and Charlie entered the cabin, shaking water from their clo
thes like great bears. They, too, removed their boots before walking on the clean floor. Neither husband nor son wanted to risk Clara's wrath by dirtying her clean floor. Bill did remark, "You sure picked one fine day to scrub your floor."
They were glad to see Mike after such a long time and shook his hand warmly. Later as they relaxed in front of the fire and immersed themselves in men talk, Mike slowly began to relax.
Then Clara asked the question that ruined it all. "Where is Jarvis? Is he gonna be home for supper?"
"He went over to Darcey's for supper," Charlie answered. "He said that he wanted to see how good she could cook before he married her."
Mike's head jerked up and he stared questioning at Clara. She nodded. "Yes, Darcey finally set the date—shortly after the harvest is in."
Mike looked away, a strained weariness coming over his face.
Clara longed to cradle his head in her arms and soothe him as though he were Charlie.
He stirred, then rose to put on his moccasins. After lacing and tying them, he said in a flat voice, "I'll be getting home now. Meg will have supper ready before long."
Clara moved toward him, but Bill shook his head. With wet eyes, she stood by helplessly and watched him go. For the first time, Jim did not walk out into the yard with his brother. He knew that Mike had to be alone to fight off his despair.
Mike did not go toward his cabin as he walked blindly out of the yard, but took instead the trail leading to the village. He could not endure Meg's presence tonight. He needed Sarie. She was his friend and would never let him down. If he wanted to talk, she would listen. If he needed the comfort of her body, it was there, too, for as long as he needed it.
The rain had stopped, but the wind had switched to the north, and in his shirt sleeves, he was soon chilled through. But he was hardly aware of it as he stumbled through the forest.