Hunter’s Moon

by Norah Hess

  The old Scottish preacher walked over to Meg, hoping to comfort and give her encouragement for what lay ahead. But Meg turned her face from him and stared at the wall. Clara was embarrassed at her rudeness and wanted to slap her surly face. Instead, she crossed the room and picked up the little body and carried it to Meg. As she laid it next to its mother, she wondered what the unpredictable woman would do.

  But Meg's reactions were all normal and maternal. Tears ran down her cheeks as she leaned on an elbow and stroked the infant's face and hair.

  Clara remarked to Bill later, "I guess she loved this one because it belonged to Jarvis."

  It was late in the afternoon when Clara returned to Mike's cabin. After the burial she had stopped at her place to straighten up after the men. And finding that they were low on bread, she stayed long enough to bake some loaves plus a couple for Mike.

  As she had walked toward his place, she felt the dampness of rain in the air and prayed that it would hold off for a while. She hated to think of it pouring down on that lonely little grave so soon.

  She shivered and pulled the shawl closer around her shoulders. The autumn sun was beginning to loose some of its heat. She sighed, thinking of the long, cold winter ahead.

  "But it won't be bad this winter," she thought. Thanks to Darcey's generosity, there was enough food put away to see them through the winter. For the first time in her married life, she would not have to worry about it.

  She found Meg greatly improved and hurried to make her some supper. Meg ate heartily and asked for more. When she had finished, Clara straightened up the kitchen and reached for her shawl.

  It was dusk when she left the cabin and headed toward Darcey's. Heavy clouds threatened to bring on total darkness, so she walked faster. She had no desire to get caught in a chilly, fall rain.

  The cabin came in view and she sighed. How was she going to tell Darcey about Jarvis and what he had done. She hated telling her such things when she was sick, but she had to tell her as soon as possible. She had to be warned so that she could be on her guard.

  "Anyhow," she told herself, "when I tell her about Mike's love, I'm sure her happiness will overshadow everything else."

  Yeller wagged his tail and licked her hand as she stepped upon the porch and knocked. Cindy, all smiles and welcome, ushered her into the brightly lighted room. "I'm sure glad you come to see this child, Mrs. Wilson. She's sure been down in the mouth. Can't get one smile out of her."

  Handing her shawl to Cindy, Clara asked, "How are you feelin', dear?"

  Darcey returned her smile. "I'm feeling pretty good, but you shouldn't have come out in such weather. Cindy tells me that it looks like rain at any moment."

  "I know, dear," Clara answered, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "But I have something important to tell you, and it couldn't wait."

  Darcey sensed her agitation and leaned up on an elbow. "What is it, Clara?" she urged. "What is wrong?"

  Clara picked up one of her tanned hands and stroked it for a moment. Then giving a sigh, she told her the entire story, omitting nothing. When she had finished, stunned silence filled the room.

  Then Darcey was grasping Clara's arm with a frightened strength. "Oh, Clara, Mike mustn't find Jarvis. Jarvis isn't worth Mike's hanging."

  "I know, Child, I know. I tried to stop him but I have tried to stop the wind from blowing. His mind is made up. He'll take no chances on Jarvis ever marrying you now."

  Darcey's eyes fastened on Clara and her heart began to race. What had Clara said? Could it be possible? No, it was too crazy to even think about. Still, she had to know for certain.

  Squeezing Clara's hand, while her eyes unconsciously begged for assurance, she whispered, "Clara, do you really think that he's gone after Jarvis because of me?"

  "That's right, dear. He's upset about the baby's death, of course, but you're the real reason."

  Darcey gazed at the ceiling. Never had she expected to hear such words. Then the waste of the past months entered her mind and she cried, "Clara, Clara. If you knew this all along, why didn't you tell me? All these wasted months and terrible heartache."

  Clara was silent for a moment, her fingers nervously pleating the corner of her apron. She wished now that she had told Darcey, but at the time she had been fully convinced that she had been doing the right thing. Slowly, she spoke.

  "There are two reasons I didn't tell you, Darcey. First, I wanted to prevent bloodshed. I was positive that Jarvis would shoot Mike if he thought he was gonna take you away from him. And second, I honestly believed that in the long run Jarvis would make you the better husband. Mike is an awfully rough man, Darcey. You might not have it so easy with him."

  Clasping Clara's folded hands, Darcey spoke softly. "Clara, you are wrong about that. Mike can be very tender. To me, he is perfect in every way."

  Clara looked at Darcey and smiled. "It's strange that you should say that, Darcey. Bill said that Mike would be that way with a woman he loved."

  With a happy and renewed energy, Darcey sat up in bed. With an air of cool decision, she said, "Someone must find Mike and send him to me. If I can talk to him, I'm sure he'll leave Jarvis to the hill court."

  Caught up in Darcey's excitement, Clara leaned over and kissed her. "I'll go right now and set Jim on Mike's trail. In the meantime, pray that Jarvis is clever enough to keep hid from him."

  She turned to leave and looked into Cindy and Dorie's bewildered eyes. "Poor Cindy," she thought. "She has no idea what we're talking about."

  She patted the plump arm. "It's a long story, Cindy. Since it's Darcey's tale, I'll let her tell you about it."

  Cindy smiled broadly in the anticipation of hearing a real love story. Handing Clara a lighted lantern, she said, "Here, take this. It's as black as the inside of a cat out there."

  Clara took the lantern and left the cabin. In the darkness, she did not see the lurking figure behind the large oak.

  CHAPTER 27

  Jarvis had awakened that morning around the same time as his sister and brother. He lay for a moment, cold and hungry, trying to get his bearing. Then dimly he recognized the decaying building and reached for Meg. Finding that he lay alone, memory came washing back. Alarmed, he sat up. He was hiding from Mike.

  Stiffly, he rose from bed and stretched his aching muscles. His clothes were still damp. And to add to his discomfort, there was a terrible emptiness in the pit of his stomach. He realized that he hadn't eaten for almost twenty-four hours. Knowing it only made it worse.

  He walked to the glassless window and peered toward Mike's place. Smoke curled out of the chimney, and his stomach rumbled as he visualized the food and coffee that must be cooking on the hearth. But knowing that he dare not show himself in the daylight hours, he sighed resignedly and returned to the bed.

  He slept restlessly off and on for the rest of the day. Sometimes when he awakened, he was in a cold sweat, and other times he felt like his body was on fire. His lips were dry and his throat was parched and sore. And when darkness arrived and he quit the bed, his head swam dizzily as he staggered to the door.

  A flickering glimmer of light shone through Mike's window, and he wondered if he dared go there looking for something to eat. But remembering how the dog, Si, hated him, he gave up the idea. He would have to live with his hunger until he got to Darcey's. Hitching his belt a little tighter, he stepped into the darkness.

  Staggering and stumbling, he finally reached the cabin. He stepped up on the porch, and his hand was on the latch when he heard his sister's voice inside. He wheeled and ran to the oak, hiding in its shadow.

  Stretching his neck, he looked into the room and swore furiously. From the shocked expression on Darcey's face, he knew that Clara was telling her about Meg.

  Trembling in an anger that overwhelmed him, he struck out at the tree. He would never be able to talk Darcey into going away with him now. He settled down at the base of the tree and waited for his sister to leave. He would have to take Darcey by force.

&n
bsp; After what seemed a lifetime, Clara finally came through the door, a lantern in her hand. When her footsteps faded away, he walked to the cabin and pushed open the door.

  Cindy and Dorie cried out at his sudden appearance, and he sneered when their eyes grew wide with fear and revulsion. Then Cindy was demanding angrily, "What in the hell do you want here, you murderer?"

  He glared at her, then laughed sarcastically, "What in the hell do you think I want? It's for damn sure I don't want you."

  Darcey's bare feet hit the floor with a soft thud. Her face white with anger, she demanded, "Do you mean to tell me that you have the nerve to come here after what you have done?"

  Edging closer to her, he retorted, "I certainly do, and don't look so indignant. I done it for us. She was gonna tell you a pack of lies."

  "I know that you are telling a pack of lies now, Jarvis Delaney, and I want nothing more to do with you."

  He had watched her through narrowed eyes as she talked, and when he answered her, his voice was low and intense.

  "You'll have more to do with me, Darcey. You'll have the rest of your life to do with me."

  Jumping behind a table, Darcey yelled out at him, "Like hell I will. You'd better clear out of here before Mike finds you."

  He didn't answer, but continued to stare at her as he bore down on the table. Then suddenly he lunged, and his fingers closed around her wrists. "Love me or not, you're going with me—tonight," he snarled.

  During the frantic struggle that followed, Darcey's gown was ripped off one shoulder and Dorie was knocked to the floor. Cindy got an elbow in the stomach and sat down heavily.

  Darcey finally managed to pull a hand free and slap Jarvis sharply across the face. He staggered back and caught at the back of a chair. She stared at him in surprise and for the first time noticed the flush to his face. She remembered then how the heat had seemed to pour from his body as she struggled with him.

  Then Cindy's voice, high and wild, was ringing through the room, mingled with Dorie's frightened squeals. The door banged open and a rush of cold air filled the room. Jarvis looked up, and fear crowded his face. Simon stood in the door, a rifle in his hand, pointed at Jarvis's belt buckle.

  For a tension-filled moment, they studied each other, each mentally weighing the danger of the other. Jarvis was the first to break the silence.

  With a deceptive mildness to his voice, he asked, "Why are you pointin' that rifle at me, Simon?"

  Simon seemed to relax his finger on the trigger, and all three women yelled a warning.

  Cindy's voice raised over the others. "Keep him covered, Simon. He's a murderer, and he's here to take Darcey away."

  Simon's lean muscular body tensed, and he stepped to one side of the door. Motioning with the rifle barrel, he uttered one word, "Get."

  As Jarvis stared back at him, his face a mixture of hate and desperation, Darcey was sure that he was going to rush at Simon. Then reluctantly, he turned to her and said, "You win this round, Darcey, but I'll be back for you." He paused at the door and looked back at her. "You know I will."

  Simon slammed the door behind him and, for the first time since coming to the hills, locked his door.

  Jarvis's feet hit the trail that led to the village. Why, he didn't know. It was the farthest point from Mike, he hoped. Chilled one moment and burning hot the next, he ran on. He hadn't gone far when a few scattered drops of rain hit his head and shoulders.

  It was a light rain at first, but it developed into a soaking downpour. Jarvis stumbled on, trying to concentrate on where he was going to spend the night. He was becoming weaker and weaker and was about ready to concede that he had run his course.

  Darcey's face flashed in front of him, and he gritted his teeth and trudged on. Finally, he stubbed his toe and sprawled full length on the muddy trail. Stunned for a minute, he shook his head to regain his senses. It was then that his eyes focused on a faint trail leading into the denser forest. If he had not been lying on the ground, he would not have seen it in the rain and dark.

  He knew the path well. He and Meg had traveled it many times. It led to a cave that they had used when they first met.

  Scrambling to his feet, he pushed through the underbrush that half concealed it.

  CHAPTER 28

  Mike had covered every direction in a five-mile radius and could find no sign of Jarvis. Nor had anyone else seen him. The miles and hours had seemed endless, and he was bone tired. He thought of his snug little cabin and was anxious to get home and rest for a while.

  "Just until I can rebuild my strength with a little rest and something to eat," he told himself. "After that, I'll finish off Jarvis and leave these hills forever."

  It was almost nightfall when he arrived in the vicinity of the settlement. It was the time of day he loved the most. Listening to the day sounds turn into night sounds. He would be leaving here soon and never again hear the particular evening sounds of Crawler's Creek.

  Off in the distance, in the quiet evening air, came the sound of a wolf's baying at the hunter's moon that was struggling to shine. Sadness was heavy in the long drawn-out yowl and Mike shivered. The wolf was echoing his own soul.

  Midway home, the misty rain that had come up turned into a steady beat. As he stepped up his pace he heard stumbling footsteps off in the woods. "If it's Jarvis," he muttered, "I'll find him later."

  Finally he arrived home, dripping water on the cabin floor. The aroma of bubbling stew greeted him, and his mouth watered.

  Clara smiled and hurried to get him dry clothing. Later she sat at the table while he ate, saying little as he wolfed down his food. He had long ago digested his breakfast of turnips and was ravishingly hungry.

  After he had sated himself and Clara was pouring them both a cup of coffee, he noticed for the first time his sister's preoccupied air. Feeling that it had something to do with his hunting Jarvis, he held his tongue. Clara would speak when she was ready.

  He pulled his pipe from his pocket, filled it, tapped it tight, and lit it from a splinter in the fire. Returning to the table, he nodded in Meg's direction. "She doin' all right?"

  "Yes, she's doin' fine, Mike. You don't have to concern yourself about her anymore."

  "Hell, I'm not worried about her. She can die and go to hell for all of me. I was just curious as to how many murders Jarvis would have on his soul when I send him to hell."

  An expression of pain ran across Clara's face. "I've been thinking about that, Mike. I wish you wouldn't, dear."

  He rose and paced the floor, a weary stoop to his shoulders. "You know that I must, Clara."

  "But why?"

  He turned and faced her. His voice was low and his words slow as he said, "He can't go on living, you must know that. He can't be left free to go on ruining people's lives."

  Clara reached and caught his hand.

  "Mike, I know that he must pay for his crime, and I want him to. But it mustn't be you who hands out the punishment. Leave it to the law."

  He pulled away from her impatiently. "You know he'll never be caught by the law. As soon as he can get his hands on Darcey, he'll leave these hills, and only I can track him down."

  Clara took a deep breath. "He wouldn't get Darcey if she was married to you."

  She watched his broad back stiffen and become still. Slowly he turned around, and Clara had to look away from the look in his eyes. "What nonsense are you talkin', Clara? You know damn well there's no chance of that."

  Her head snapped around to him. "Damn you, Mike, for being such a fool. Only a blind man wouldn't know that Darcey Stevens loves you."

  Mike stared mutely at his sister, a hopeful, but doubtful question in his eyes. Clara gazed back, her eyes twinkling and teasing.

  He grabbed her hands. "You're sure, Clara? You're not guessing, are you?"

  "No, dear, I'm not guessing. She told me herself."

  He pushed trembling fingers through his long black hair with fast, jerky motions, the wonder of Clara's words shaking him to his ver
y soul.

  "Isn't it wonderful," Clara whispered. "She's loved you since the first time she saw you at the spring."

  With a happiness that almost matched his own, Clara watched the transformation taking place in Mike's face. The bitterness around his mouth softened, and the cold, black eyes became warm and gentle. "It's been a long time coming to you, Mike, but thank God it's not too late."

  They sat in front of the fire then, in quiet talk, discussing plans and deciding what course of action to take against Jarvis. It was finally decided that Bill would report Jarvis's crime to the elders tomorrow morning.

  Then suddenly, Mike was making the rafters ring with his wild and joyous laughter. "I never felt so good in my entire life, Clara," he exclaimed. "I could move these hills tonight."

  He stood and stretched. "I'm going to Darcey now, Clara. There's been too much time wasted between us already."

  "Will you be making your home there?"

  "Only until Meg is on her feet. Soon as she is able, I'll send her packin'. The baby didn't make it and he was the only reason that she's here."

  Clara stood on the porch and watched him fade from the cabin's light. Smiling broadly, she said to herself, "There goes a happy man."

  While Clara and Mike talked, Meg lay in bed, pretending to sleep. If Mike had any news of Jarvis, she wanted to hear it. She knew that if he thought she was awake, he might not talk so freely.

  She had been surprised to learn that Darcey Stevens loved Mike. "Wait until I tell Jarvis that piece of news," she had smiled. "He'll forget about her then."

  She would go and tell Jarvis everything, she planned. Warn him that the law would be looking for him. Feverishly, she made plans that she and Jarvis would leave the settlement and make a new life together.

  Then she cursed the weakness that held her in bed. What was she to do, she worried frantically.

  Mike left and she heard Clara bustling around the fireplace. After a moment the rich aroma of simmering broth filled the cabin. Shortly, Clara was carrying a steaming bowl toward her. "I thought you might want a bowl of this, Meg. It will give you strength."