Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 03]

by Almost Eden

  “I suppose a smart-mouth, know-it-all like ya can do it in eight.”

  “Around there. How do you know you can do it in ten? You carry a clock?”

  “I count ‘donkey carts’ an’ can come within a half a second of the best time clock ya ever saw.”

  “Donkey carts?” He snorted again.

  “It’s what I said. Are yore ears stopped up?”

  “I heard you,” Eli said irritably. “I don’t see what ‘donkey carts’ has got to do with how fast you can load that rifle.”

  “Donkey carts, donkey carts, donkey carts. Three seconds, ya dumb Swede.”

  Eli’s laugh was low and rumbling. “We’ll count your way and have us a little wager when this is over. I can beat you whether you count donkey carts or donkey wagons.”

  “When this is over, I’m hopin’ ya take yore high-’n’-mighty self back downriver to a town where ya’ll find plenty a married woman t’ put yore cow-eyes on. Ya ain’t got the gumption t’ find yore own woman.”

  Aee walked calmly away, leaving Eli sputtering. As soon as she was out of sight around the cabin, she stopped, stomped her foot and uttered a swear word she had heard her pa use on occasion. The dang-blasted polecat made her so mad! He had turned down the invite to eat at their table, but when he needed doctoring, he had come fast enough.

  She wished now that when he was drinking the willow bark tea, she had given him a few cups of “hockey tea.” Aee and her sisters called the brew her mother made from Culver roots “hockey tea” because of what it made a body do. After drinking a cup, they stayed close to the woods lest they mess their drawers before they got there.

  Glory be! Why hadn’t she thought of that?

  Laughter burst from her lips before she could clamp her hand over her mouth. She leaned her forehead against the side of the cabin and pictured in her mind the big-mouthed, cock-a-hoop Swede running to the woods as if chased by a swarm of yellow jackets. Her shoulders shook with muffled laughter.

  When she was reasonably sure her giggles were under control, she straightened. Her face was flushed, her eyes wet with tears of laughter. Sweat plastered loose hair to her cheeks. She took off her hat to run the sleeve of her shirt over her wet face. Still giggling, she flipped her braids over her shoulders and dropped her hat. When she stooped to pick it up, she saw Eli standing at the corner of the cabin, his shoulder against the wall.

  Seeing the frown on his face and with the thought of the “hockey tea” still fresh in her mind, she could not control the giggles that bubbled up and out of her. She couldn’t have stopped them if her life had depended on it.

  “Somebody tickle your funnybone?”

  “Co . . . ck-a-ho . . . op—” The words were strangled by her laughter. “Oh . . . oh . . . I wish I’d . . . a thought of it—”

  “Thought of what?”

  “Ah . . . hockey tea!” she blurted, then, amid peals of girlish laughter, she grabbed her rifle and ran toward the barn.

  Eli watched her until she disappeared inside.

  “What’s she talking about?” he muttered. “What the hell is hockey tea?”

  * * *

  It was that golden time of evening. Eli watched Paul and Maggie, followed by MacMillan, emerge from the woods and approach the cabin. Maggie walked with her head down, clearly unhappy about something. She passed him without a glance and went into the small room attached to the cabin where Light had left their packs. MacMillan veered off toward the barn.

  “What’s happened?” Eli asked when Paul sank wearily down on the bench.

  “Vega’s tied up to that brushy island downriver. Mac and Light think it likely that he put his raiding party ashore a mile or so back and they’ll come up through the woods. Light’s gone scoutin’.”

  “What’s Maggie down in the mouth about?”

  “She wanted to go with Light. He told her to stay.”

  “I’m surprised he didn’t take her.” Eli’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.

  “Mon Dieu, Eli. I do not like what’s going on a ’tween you and Lightbody.”

  “I don’t either.”

  “What you mean?”

  “I mean, goddammit, Maggie deserves more than to be dragged through the wilderness by a half-breed heading for some godforsaken mountain he’s never seen.”

  “The devil!” Paul hissed. “Have you forgot who he is? Have you forgot she is his wife?”

  “She’s not his wife.” Eli gave a derisive snort. “They didn’t stand before a preacher or a magistrate.”

  “How you know this?”

  “She told me they wed each other on a bluff above the river. What kind of a poppycock marriage is that?”

  “It appears to be good enough for them. Mon ami, stay away. She love him.”

  “Horse piss. She depends on him.”

  “She is with him ’cause she want to be with him. You must accept it.”

  “She has not had a chance to choose.”

  “Ho! She could have any man she want. She want him.”

  Paul raked his fingers through his tight dark curls. “I wish that we had not come looking for Lightbody. I wish we were back makin’ good coin on the Ohio.”

  “I could not go through life not knowing.”

  “And now?”

  Eli shrugged. “He’s a man, a breed.”

  “But a civilized breed, mon ami. He saved your life.”

  “He was showing off for Maggie.”

  Paul drew in a deep breath. “How you say that? When he give you life.”

  “I thanked him. What do you want me to do? Kiss his feet?”

  “Leave his woman be.”

  “You think I want her because he’s got her, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I think that. You want to take something from him.”

  “And if I do?”

  “You cause only trouble for yourself and him.”

  “What about Maggie? She should be in a comfortable house, with nice things.”

  “She’s got what she wants, mon ami.” Paul spoke tiredly. “Leave her be.” He got up and looked down at his friend. “I have known you since we was striplings. I was never disappointed in you till now.”

  Eli sat alone watching the fireflies and thought of the years he and Paul had been together. When they were boys working on the river docks for food and a place to sleep, Paul had been the one to keep them out of trouble. Although he was scarcely five years older, Paul seemed, and was, more mature. As Eli looked back, he could not remember a time when he and his friend had been so at odds with each other.

  The bastard had come between them.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Many Spots returned from the Osage camp with eight braves; all were mounted on spotted ponies. They eyed Eli and Paul with stoic expressions, then ignored them and listened carefully to MacMillan as he moved among them. One of the ponies carried double. A small figure slipped down. Eli heard Bee telling her father that her mother had walked most of the way to the cave rather than ride in the cart.

  “No sign of the babe comin’?”

  “She says not. Yellow Corn come down with Many Spots to say her piece when the babe gets here.”

  The warriors were all young and extremely muscular. Each carried, besides his bow and quiver of arrows, a war club rendered more lethal by a metal blade protruding several inches from the end. Their leggings were decorated down the sides with beads and fringe. Small, colorful feathers adorned their hair, and metal amulets hung around their necks.

  The ponies were picketed and a brave sank down on his haunches to guard them. The rest of the braves and Many Spots melted into the darkness. MacMillan came back to where Eli and Paul waited.

  Suddenly remembering that Maggie had not come out of the room, he went to the door.

  “Maggie?”

  In the dim light he could see her standing beside the low bench where Light had placed their packs. She was looking toward the door, yet she didn’t answer him.

  “Do you need to get so
mething from your pack? I’ll get a candle.”

  “Go ’way, Eli. I want t’ be here with Light.”

  Eli was startled not only by her words, but by the dreamy way she said them. Had something happened to frighten her out of her mind?

  “Maggie,” he said gently. “Light isn’t here.”

  “Don’t say that. He is too here.” She moved her fingers back and forth, lovingly caressing the pack Light had carried since they left St. Louis.

  “Paul said Light went downriver.”

  “Go ’way, Eli. I want to be here with Light,” she said again.

  Confused, Eli moved away from the door.

  Maggie hardly noticed that he was gone. Dropping to her knees, she wrapped her arms around the pack and pressed her cheek to the deerskin wrapping. She closed her eyes tightly and saw Light’s thin serious face. She felt his gentle hands stroking her hair.

  Come back, Light. Come back, come back.

  I will never leave you, mon amour.

  Ya left me here. I love ya, Light.

  You’re my treasure, chérie.

  I’m yores, Light. Come back—

  “The Osage will take the north and east. Caleb, Linus, Aee and Bee will watch down by the river in case Vega tries to slip in by canoe. There’s not much chance they’ll come from the west because of the bluff and the creek.”

  “It was my understanding, m’sieur, that Indians would not fight at night.”

  “Believe about half a what ya hear ’bout Indians, Mr. Deschanel,” MacMillan said and chuckled. “Osage be the best night fighters I ever did see. They ain’t nothin’ gettin’ past ’em out there. I’d stake my life on ’em—and have more’n once. They see in the dark like owls. Ain’t no cowards ’mong ’em, either. Tol’ ya I’d not a got a foothold here if not for ’em. If they like ya, they like ya. If they don’t, they be meaner than a pissed-on polecat.”

  “Will Light be back afore morn, m’sieur?”

  “Depends on what he finds. Where’s Miz Lightbody?”

  “In there,” Eli jerked his head toward the open door of the room.

  “She took it hard when her man went. Had misery all o’er her pretty little face.”

  “M’sieur, what is it you wish that I do now?” Paul asked, wanting to change the subject.

  “Sit tight. If a leaf stirs we’ll get a signal. Don’t reckon ya ort t’ be roamin’ ’round. Ya might get took for a Vega man an’ get shot . . . or axed.”

  “You seem to think Lightbody knows enough not to get shot or . . . axed,” Eli said irritably.

  “’Pears to me he’s knowin’ what he’s doin’. He ain’t no slouch at trackin’ or fightin’ either. I knew it right off when I heared his name. Ain’t a Indian or a white man between here an’ the mountains ain’t heared ’bout Sharp Knife.”

  “—And we’re a couple a pilgrims who need to be looked after. Is that the way you see it?” Eli’s tone was hardly civil.

  “That’s it. Ya may be good on the river, but ya don’t know beans ’bout Indians or ya’d not come up the river with a two-man crew,” MacMillan answered in a tone equally cool.

  “We made it, didn’t we?”

  MacMillan snorted. “Ya was lucky t’ get by them Delaware. They can slip up on ya silent as a snake. Ya can’t guess what they’ll do no more than ya can guess when ya’ll get yore next fit of the ague.”

  “M’sieur,” Paul inserted quickly, “the guns are cleaned and loaded should they be needed.”

  “I thank ya for it. I’ll not be lettin’ the Osage have ’em till—” MacMillan stopped speaking when the sound of a nightbird reached them. He stood. “Many Spots is comin’ in.”

  It was a dark night. The quarter moon was barely visible through the drifting clouds. The three men sent searching looks out to the edge of the woods. Silence hung like a cloak over the homestead until MacMillan cupped his mouth with his hands and imitated the soft call of a very young hoot owl. The answer came from close by, and two shadows emerged from the woods and trotted toward the cabin.

  “Light!” Maggie ran out the door and past the men waiting beside the house. “Light . . . Light—”

  “Oui, chérie,” Light called.

  “Ya come back!”

  “Of course, chérie.”

  “What ya got there?” MacMillan asked, then, “Jehoshaphat! It’s Zee!”

  “Careful, m’sieur. His leg is hurt where they hooked him out of a tree with a casting line.”

  “Sonsabitches!”

  MacMillan removed the bow and quiver from Zee’s shoulder and carefully lifted the little man from Light’s back.

  “Sonsabitches,” he swore again when a muffled groan came from Zee. “Many Spots, get Aee. She’s somewhere along the river.”

  As soon as Light was relieved of his burden, Maggie wrapped her arms around him.

  “Yo’re a’right, ain’t ya, Light?”

  “I’m all right, ma petite. The blood is from the small man.” Over her head he spoke to MacMillan. “Four men came ashore. One of them got away. It was Kruger. He headed east.”

  “There was four and ya killed three of ’em?” MacMillan questioned.

  “Come morning you’ll find them on the north path. Zee can give you the exact location.” Light walked away with Maggie still clinging to him. “I must wash, chérie.” After he had washed the blood off his hands in the hollow log trough beside the well, he put his arms around his wife and held her tightly to him.

  “I stayed by our thin’s, Light, just like you tol’ me. I don’t want ya to go away again.” She raised her lips for his kiss. “My . . . my heart was gone.”

  “Mon amour, mon trésor. My mind was at ease knowing you were safe.” He dotted her face with kisses. “There will be other times when we must part for a while. I will always come back to you.”

  She looked toward the sickroom, where candles were being lit.

  “What did ya do, Light? Did ya kill somebody? Was they hurtin’ Zee?”

  “Yes, my pet. I found him being tormented by four rivermen. One of them was Kruger.”

  “Ah! That man is not good. I think he is mad, Light. Someday ya’ll kill him.”

  “Oui. He is a bad man. It will be good to be rid of him.”

  “It was mean what they did to Zee. I’m proud, Light. Proud ya saved him.”

  “I’d have killed Kruger if I could have pulled out my other knife in time.”

  She took Light’s hand, brought it to her lips and kissed it.

  “I love ya, Light.”

  “I love you, my treasure.”

  “I should go see it I can help with Zee.”

  “Oui, chérie. Go give words of comfort to the little man.”

  * * *

  Zee lay on the bunk where Eli had lain the night before. The leg of his britches had been split to expose the gaping wound in his thigh where the hook had opened the flesh to the bone.

  MacMillan tried to block Maggie’s way into the room, but she slipped past him, went directly to the bunk and looked sorrowfully down on the grotesque face of the little man.

  “Tch-tch-tch.” Maggie shook her head and clicked her tongue as her friend Biedy used to do back home. “It was mean what they did t’ ya, Zee,” she said, and smoothed the bushy thick hair back from the grossly distorted face. “I’m glad Light killed ’em.”

  The unblinking eye looked at her with alarm; the lid of the other eye drooped, almost covering it. The nose was merely two nostrils in a face covered by thick brown beard. The man’s head, large in comparison to his small body, looked as if it had been placed in a vise and squeezed. One eye, one nostril and one side of his mouth were higher than the other.

  Maggie seemed to take no notice of the deformity. She continued to stroke the lopsided forehead and speak soft smoothing words.

  “Aee’ll come an’ fix yore leg. Me an’ Light’s got gonoshay we picked for Eli’s foot. There be plenty left. We’ll put it on if Aee ain’t got nothin’ better. The gonoshay healed El
i’s foot jist fine.”

  MacMillan, Paul and Eli gaped at her in amazement. Light was amused by their expressions. He was exceedingly proud of his young and beautiful wife and was not at all surprised by her reaction to the deformed little man.

  “Get rags outta our pack, Light. He’s bleedin’ somethin’ awful.”

  “Aee’ll have t’ stitch up the hole, ma’am,” MacMillan said. “Many Spots has gone t’ fetch her. Guess she’s comin’. I can hear her mouth goin’.”

  Aee’s voice, speaking in Osage, preceded her. She came in hatless and wearing an old black wool coat. She went right to the bunk.

  “Oh, Zee! Name of a cow! What happened to ya?” Aee looked down at the wound, ignoring Maggie.

  “I . . . be a bit careless, lass.” The voice was deep, a man’s voice.

  Aee quickly took off her coat and dropped it on the end of the bunk.

  “Them pissants! Many Spots said Mr. Lightbody killed ’em. Good. I hope they hurt like hell ’fore they died.”

  “He didn’t kill Kruger,” Maggie said. “But he will.”

  “Zee, it’s a big hole. I’ll have to sew it.” Aee looked closely at the wound and dabbed at the blood that still oozed. “Shoot! I wish Ma was here.”

  “Don’t fret, lassie. Ye’ll be doin’ fine,” Zee assured her.

  “Pa, we’ll need vinegar t’ wash it. And get Zee some milk. Ya know how he likes it. I’ll go get Ma’s basket of doctorin’ thin’s.”

  Eli picked up a candle. “I’ll help you.”

  Aee’s head turned so quickly that her braids whipped around.

  “Ya reckon yo’re up t’ doin’ it, town-man? Ma’s basket’s loaded with herbs an’ cloth an’ thread an’ such. It’d be a mite hefty fer ya t’ carry.”

  Eli’s jaws clenched. “Hush your back-talk and get on with it,” he growled, following Aee out the door.

  Paul looked quickly to see if Aee’s father had taken exception to what Eli had said. He was surprised to see that MacMillan was grinning.

  “Strike sparks off each other like flint hittin’ rock. Ain’t it the dad-gummest thin’ ya ever saw? Aee ain’t never give a feller the time a day before. ’Course the ones that come by warn’t much. Says she cain’t abide the Swede. Wants me t’ give him the boot. Not Mr. and Mrs. Lightbody,” he hastily added. “Just the Swede. ’Course, she knows ya’d go, too,” he said to Paul. “Thick as the two of ya are.”