by Norah Hess
"I think she's gonna be all right. I've just about got the bleeding stopped, but she's awful weak. I was wondering if you could maybe shoot a couple of squirrels or something so that I could make some broth for her."
He nodded and picked up his rifle.
CHAPTER 24
His mouth harsh and his lips set in grim lines, Mike strode through the forest, a spade riding on his shoulders. He was on his way to the cemetery to dig a small grave. The setting sun was a red ball just behind the tree line, and he stepped up his pace.
A sharp wind sprang up, whipping the buckskins around his ankles. Raising his head and sniffing, he detected the smell of rain in the air and walked a little faster. He wanted to finish the unhappy chore before the downpour started.
The cold fury that had filled him when the baby was born dead had left him. Only the determination to put an end to his cruel and abnormal brother remained. He must see to it that Jarvis never harmed another person, never married Darcey Stevens and ruined her life. To protect her alone was enough to make him track Jarvis down and shoot him like the dog he was.
He realized, gloomily, that he would have to leave his beloved hills once he had settled accounts with Jarvis. Even though the hill people would feel that he was justified in killing his brother, they would nevertheless hang him for doing so.
There was no real law in the settlement, only what was known as hill justice. When a crime was committed, court was held in the schoolhouse, and three elders, chosen for their experience and wisdom, would discuss the crime and decide on a just punishment.
Then it came in thunderous waves: never again would he be able to see Darcey. For long minutes he was bowed with the thought of it. But after a while he rationalized that since she would never be his anyhow, it would be better if he left the hills.
He arrived at the cemetery and quickly made his way to his parents' graves. To the right of his father, he started digging. "The little fellow won't be so lonely, sleeping next to his grandpaw," he thought.
It was full dark when the grave was finished, and he cursed himself for coming away without a lantern. His day was by no means finished, and it was going to be difficult finding his way through the forest.
It was to the Stevens cabin that he had to find his way. He planned to spend the night close by, keeping watch. Knowing how Jarvis's mind worked, he was sure that he would go there and try to take Darcey away with him. He knew that Jarvis would try to flee when he learned that Meg still lived.
Halfway there, the rain began to come down in sheets. Mike swore disgustedly. It was typical of his luck, lately.
Soaked and chilled to the bone, he at last saw the light of Darcey's cabin. Moving in quietly and stationing himself in a dense stand of cedar, he hunkered down and took up his vigil.
As he watched, occasionally he saw the black couple and Dorie walk past the lighted window, but never Darcey. He wondered why she never moved about.
Once when Simon and Yeller went to the spring, the great dog came sniffing up to him, his tail wagging. He scratched the dog behind the ears and whispered softly, "You old bugger, you still remember me, don't you?"
He was relieved when Simon called and the dog returned to him. He would have felt like a fool if the skinny, grim man had come looking for the dog and found him squatting in the rain like a blithering idiot.
He waited all night for the lights to be extinguished and was puzzled when they continued to burn. But what puzzled him the most was that Jarvis hadn't shown up. Mike had made sure that he wasn't in the cabin by slipping quietly to a window and peering in. There had been no one there who didn't belong. He had seen Darcey asleep on the bed, her face toward the wall.
He had only seen her long, pale hair, but a quick glance had been enough to stir his blood and make him think about her for the rest of the night. He let his memory take over as he relived their shared moments.
The rains stopped with the dawn. Mike rose and stretched stiff bones and sore muscles. Leaving his spade hidden beneath the ground-hugging cedars, he shouldered his rifle and made his way to Cindy's garden. Running his eyes over the plot, he discovered a long row of spring turnips. He quickly pulled several, twisted off the tops and slipped the bottoms in his pockets. He would stop by the spring and make his breakfast.
CHAPTER 25
Late in the afternoon when the sun was beginning to loose its brightness, Meg's bleeding stopped. Relieved, Clara had filled a bowl with broth made from a squirrel. She carried it to the bed and propping Meg on the pillows, spoon-fed it to her.
When Meg had emptied the bowl and Clara was about to rise, Meg grabbed her hand. "I . . . I want to thank you, Clara, for being so good to me today. I'd have died if you hadn't been here."
"Now, Meg, we don't know that for a fact," Clara answered, embarrassed. "Maybe it just wasn't your time to go. You rest now and see if you can get some sleep."
"Yes, I think I will. I'm worn out."
While Meg slept, Clara had turned her hand to the dirt-filled room. After an hour or so, the mess of dirty dishes, pots, and pans were washed and put away. The corners were cleaned out and the floor swept clean. She gathered the soiled clothing into a pillow case to take them home with her and wash them.
As Clara's hands had been with the cleaning, her mind had been equally busy with Mike and Jarvis. Time and again, Jarvis's cowardly act returned and she would shake her head in disbelief. She wondered why Jarvis hadn't taken to the wilderness as soon as he had finished his cold-blooded act. He must have been convinced Meg would die before she was discovered. There was also the possibility that he was confident she wouldn't name him as her attacker.
But if that was the case, he hadn't reckoned on Mike's ability to wring the truth from Meg. Once he learned that Mike knew everything, he would run. Jarvis had always run from Mike.
Now that the room bore a fair resemblance to what it had once been, Clara had some coffee. Settling beside the fire, she relaxed and slowly sipped the strong brew. When the cup was half-empty, the door opened and Bill walked in.
Her eye's lighting up, Clara cried softly, "Hi, hon. You got my note, did you?"
"Yeah, just now. I hurried right over. Did the baby come yet?"
Holding a finger to her lips, motioning him to be quiet, she led him as far away as possible from Meg and told him what had happened.
Bill's face went white and he angrily demanded, "What's come over that man? Has he gone mad?"
"I know it looks that way, Bill, but I'm beginning to wonder if it is only recently that he's been acting strange. I believe that he's always been this way, but his handsome face and winning ways have fooled us."
"You could be right." After a moment, Bill continued. "I never did think as much of him as you did. I kept my mouth shut, though, because he was your brother."
"I knew you didn't really like him, Bill."
There was silence for a moment. Then Clara spoke, "I think he really went out of his mind when Meg threatened to take the baby to Darcey after it was born. I think that was when he decided that he would kill them both."
"Well, he'd better start runnin' and keep on runnin'. Mike will be after him and these hills won't be big enough for Jarvis to hide in."
Clara nodded her head and gazed solemnly into the flames.
"You know," Bill continued, "now that I think about it, Jarvis's face did look kind of strange when I read your note out loud—a little scared, maybe. Could be he thought she would die before anybody discovered her."
"That's what I think."
Clara sighed and reached her hand to her husband. "Where will it all end, Bill? I'm heartsick that Mike will shoot Jarvis and then be hung for it. I'm sure he's out there right now, hunting for him."
"Now you don't know that, Clara. He's probably just out in the woods thinking things out. There's somethin' else eatin' at him now, you know. He's worried about Darcey and what Jarvis might do to her."
"I've thought about that, too."
Bill looked a
t her and said gently, "I'm sorry you have to be hurt this way, Clara."
A faraway look in her eyes, Clara said quietly, "Thank you, Bill, but I'm not the only one being hurt. Jarvis's act is far-reaching."
They sat in silence again. Then after a while, Bill said, "After I feed Jim and Charlie a bite, I'll go see the preacher and make arrangements for the funeral."
"I was gonna ask you to do that. Tell him we just want graveside services."
Bill nodded and rose. As Clara followed him to the door her eyes fell on the pine box. "Bill, at home in my cedar chest you'll find a large piece of soft white cloth. Would you bring it to me later. I want to line the coffin with it."
She paused a moment, biting thoughtfully on her thumbnail. "In the very bottom of the chest, there is a set of baby clothes that Charlie was baptized in. Bring them, too. I can't find any baby clothes in the cabin, and the poor little mite should have something on when he goes to meet his maker."
Bill smiled and kissed her cheek. "What would we do without you, Clara?"
It was blackest night when Bill returned home. Through the light of the kitchen window, he saw that Jarvis was still there. His blood boiled as he watched Jarvis, reared back in his chair, his handsome face wreathed in smiles as he talked to Jim and Charlie.
"You rotten, bastard," he exclaimed as he threw open the door.
Startled, the three looked up and stared at his angry face. He stood in front of Jarvis and shouted, "The story is out on you, Jarvis. Mike is coming for you."
Great beads of sweat broke out on Jarvis's forehead. He jumped to his feet, crashing the chair over backwards. His eyes shifting nervously, he stammered, "I . . . I don't know what you're talkin' about."
Bill took a threatening step toward him and ground out between clenched teeth, "The hell you don't, damn your rotten hide. You know very well what I'm talkin' about. The baby is dead, but Meg survived. She told Mike everything."
Without another word, Jarvis grabbed up his rifle and bolted through the door, muttering darkly, "That damned slut."
As he ran down the path from the open door, he could hear Charlie's high pitched voice asking excitedly, "What story, Paw?"
Jarvis raced along the river road for several moments before slowing down to a trot. As the confusion of his fright and panic slowly swung to a semblance of rationality, he began to plan a course of action. Foremost in his mind was getting to Darcey before she learned of Meg and the baby.
Then, alarmingly, he realized that Mike might be there waiting for him. He had slowed to a walk by the time he came to the merging of the river road and the path leading to Darcey's. He stopped and leaned against a tree. Which route should he take? The river road would lead him to possible safety, but it would also take him farther away from Darcey.
It didn't take him long to decide that safety without her would mean nothing to him.
A breeze stirred the tops of the trees and a streak of lightning lit up the forest for a moment. "Damn it," he muttered angrily. "It's gonna rain for sure."
The darkness became pitch black as his feet hit the path, and he stumbled on rocks and bumped into trees. Hardly aware of the bruises and scratches that he was receiving, he made his plans.
First, he would try to talk her into running away with him—convince her of how romantic it would be to elope. They would be married at the preacher's house. "Once she's my wife, I'll be the master, and she'll leave these hills with me whether she wants to or not," he muttered to himself.
Then halfway to the cabin, it occurred to him that Darcey might already know about Meg. If that was the case, she would flat-out refuse to go with him. He laughed grimly. If he had to, he would simply clip her on the chin and carry her away.
At last he saw the dim flickering of a candle and sighed in relief. But instead of going directly to the cabin, he concealed himself behind a large oak and peered into the lighted room.
He frowned when he saw Darcey lying on the bed, her eyes closed and her face flushed. Cindy was sponging her forehead, and Dorie and Simon hung around, their faces full of concern. Anger and frustration stirred in him. If she was sick, he couldn't take her away. Aggravated and wondering what to do next, he kicked the tree. To stay around much longer was to ask for trouble.
To make things worse, it began to rain, heavy and slashing, soaking him to the skin in a matter of moments. The leafless tree would give him no protection. He would have to seek shelter somewhere else.
Suddenly the cabin door opened, spilling light into the yard. Simon stepped out onto the porch, a water pail in his hand. As he stood looking doubtfully at the pouring rain, the dog came and stood beside him.
Jarvis grew nervous as the hackles on the dog's neck began to rise and a low warning growl came from his throat. The dog had caught his scent. He swore under his breath. "That damned dog is gonna be after me in a minute."
He had to get away from there. But he knew that he couldn't go far in the rain and dark. Then he remembered the old cabin where he used to meet Meg. It was doubtful if Mike would search for him in the dark, he reasoned, and the rain would wash away his tracks by morning.
He began to inch his way around the tree and carefully started back through the forest. Behind him, Yeller's growl had turned into a furious barking. As he tried to run, he heard Simon call out, "Shut up, for God's sake."
After falling and scrambling for what seemed like hours, he reached the deserted cabin and entered its musty darkness. Soaked and shivering, he threw himself onto the rumpled old bed, and with his stomach rumbling from hunger, he fell into a fitful sleep. In his troubled dreams, Mike chased him and Darcey laughed mockingly.
CHAPTER 26
As Mike finished the breakfast he had swiped from Cindy's garden, his sister stood looking down at the sleeping form of Meg. Being dead tired, she and Meg had slept deeply all night.
Noting that Meg lay quietly and breathed regularly, Clara moved to the small coffin sitting on a table in the back of the room. She gazed down at the little form dressed in Charlie's clothes and her eyes filled with tears.
She had stayed up late the night before, lining the pine box with the soft cloth. As she had worked, pulling and ruffling the piece of goods, it came to her that this was what the cloth was meant for. This was the reason she had never been able to take the scissors to it.
She sighed and walked to the kitchen table and picked up the coffee pot. Filling it from the water pail, she added coffee grounds and set it on the flames. As she worked, she wondered where Mike was and if he had found Jarvis.
Then her mind turned to the funeral. Bill had said that he would come with the preacher around nine o'clock.
She had been happy to see Bill last night when he returned, just before the rain started, and it had been an added pleasure to see Charlie standing behind him. A big grin had widened his mouth as he said, "Hi, Maw."
She had given his head an affectionate roughing up and said, "Well, Charlie, did Paw feed you enough supper?"
"Yeah, Maw, it was plenty, but it didn't taste as good as yours."
Clara and Bill laughed and Bill cuffed him good-naturedly. "A fine son you are, complaining about your Paw."
They sat in front of the fire, talking quietly until the rain slackened. The main topic they discussed was Mike and Jarvis. "Do you think Mike has found Jarvis yet?" Clara had asked.
"I ain't got any idea, Clara. The last time I saw Jarvis, he was hot footin' it down the river trail, on his way to Darcey's, I imagine."
Clara frowned. "Do you think he would do her any harm, given the state he's in?"
"Truthfully, I wouldn't put nothing past him. But I don't think he'll be seeing her tonight."
Clara looked at him, her eyes questioning. "What do you mean?"
"On our way over here, we ran into Simon at the spring. He said that Darcey's in bed with a high fever—came on her sudden-like. He was real upset about it."
"Land's sake, I wonder what's ailing her?"
"I don't kn
ow, but Jarvis won't get in that house tonight. Simon will put buckshot in his ass if he tries it."
"I'm relieved to hear that, at least."
They sat in silence for a while, the crackling fire and slashing rain the only sounds in the cabin. Then Clara raised her head, and with a stubborn determination in her voice, said, "Bill, I'm going over to Darcey's just as soon as I find the time. I want you to know right now, I'm gonna do some meddlin'. I'm gonna tell her how Mike feels about her."
Bill smiled and allowed that it was time she did.
Father and son left shortly after that, and Clara had felt a curious homesickness as she stood in the doorway and watched the bobbing lantern disappear into the forest. This would be the first time she had ever slept away from home.
The aroma of finished coffee filled the room, bringing her back to the present. She pulled the pot off the flames and poured a cup of the invigorating brew. As she gently blew on it a moment, she wished that Mike was there to share it with her.
She had just drained the cup when she heard Meg stirring. The first rays of the morning sun bathed the bed, and by its light Clara saw that Meg was looking better. There was color in her cheeks and her eyes were clear. Clara smiled. "Good mornin', Meg. How are you feelin' today?"
Meg turned her head away and muttered ungraciously, "Better."
Clara stared at her angrily. Meg was back to normal. She bit back the harsh words that sprang to her lips and asked, "Would you like a cup of coffee before I give you breakfast?"
"I reckon so," Meg answered, her voice and manner still unfriendly.
Again Clara bit back a retort and silently brought her a cup of coffee. As she heated some broth on the flames, she said to herself, "I can't wait to get away from that hateful wretch."
Clara had just finished straightening up the cabin and putting a fresh gown on Meg when she heard the scraping of feet outside. It was Bill and Charlie, followed by Jim and the preacher. Charlie carried a bouquet of late-blooming flowers gathered from her garden, and she hugged him for being so thoughtful.