Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] by Lonesome River Page A

homesteaders to take them. Hell! The last thing he wanted to do was to leave them at the mercy of righteous folk who thought it a sin to do anything but work. They had beat the fun and laughter out of their own children, and he hated to think of what they would do to two that were not their own.
    Farr waited so long to speak that Liberty became uncomfortable and the color in her cheeks deepened. Feeling ridiculously self-conscious, she looked away.
    “I’m going back to get your wagon.”
    Her eyes swung back to him quickly. “You can’t. You’ve not had any sleep and you’ve walked all the way.”
    “I’ll get a couple hours sleep and by that time my friend Colby Carroll and a young fellow that stays here with us may be back. One of them will go with me. You’ll be all right here with Juicy.”A sudden bright smile spread across his face. “Juicy likes nothing better than good cooking. Likes pretty girls, too,” he said with his eyes on Amy. He laughed when she blushed miserably and avoided his eyes. He reached over and plucked Mercy from Liberty’s arms. “What have you been up to, little wiggle wart? Have you been giving Liberty trouble?” His big hand spread over her stomach and his fingers tickled her. Squeals of happy laughter erupted from the child.
    Liberty felt a small hand creep into hers. She looked down to see Daniel gazing with rapt attention at Farr and Mercy. Then she remembered seeing his father’s stern face and hearing his harsh voice shouting at his son. It was no wonder the child was fascinated by the play between the man and the child. There was an unmistakable look of longing in Daniel’s brown eyes. Liberty lifted her eyes to Farr’s and saw that he was looking intently at the boy. He stood Mercy on her feet and squatted down on his heels.
    “How old are you, Daniel?”
    “Four.” He held out four fingers.
    “That old? Then I reckon you’re old enough to look after my pet crow while I go back to get Mrs. Perry’s wagon? He usually hangs out around the barn. Sometimes he flies down and sits on my shoulder. Let’s go see if we can find him.” Farr stood, removed his hat and hung it on a peg above the water bucket. He reached down, lifted Daniel and set him astride his neck. The boy’s smile came quickly, then faded just as fast, as if it was something he shouldn’t do. Farr’s eyes caught and held Liberty’s. He saw the tired lines in her face shift into a smile. “Make yourselves to home. I’ll send him back in a while. I’ll bed down in the barn for a few hours of sleep before I go.”
    Liberty felt hot tears behind her eyelids and closed them to trap them there. Farrway Quill, frontiersman, had seen the loneliness in the small boy’s face and had responded. She swallowed the assortment of lumps in her throat, opened her eyes, and stared hard at his back as he walked away with the small boy perched on his shoulders.
     
    *  *  *
     
    The large square room attached to the long building was gloomy, Liberty observed from the doorway. It smelled of ashes, tobacco and hides. There was a table and stools for sitting, beds in three of the corners, and a cobblestone fireplace in the fourth. The beds were pole beds, up off the floor and covered with patchwork quilts. The nicest thing in the room was a walnut cupboard, whittled and carved and put together with pegs. It had double doors at the top and three deep drawers at the bottom.
    “Come right on in.” The old man stood in the doorway going into the long building. His gravelly voice boomed in the silence. “Make yoreselves to home. If’n the younguns is hungry, stir ’em up some vittles.”
    “Thank you. We have cornmeal—”
    “Ain’t no call to be a usin’ it. I’ll fetch ya in a bait a deer meat from the smokehouse. There be milk ’n butter in the root cellar. I got to fetch clabber milk anyways to send down to Mr. Washington. Colby brung us in some wheat flour, but ain’t none of us no hand at makin’ up