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

hands until the grass caught. By that time Liberty had gathered several large handfuls to use as torches, handed them to Farr, and turned her back on the burning pyre. He took them from her hand without a glance and soon the wagon was aflame. Thick dark smoke filled the clearing and billowed above the trees.
    “That’s all we can do. Come on.”
    “But . . . a prayer—”
    “We don’t have time. We must get as far from here as we can. I figure they were here the night before last, but they couldn’t travel fast with oxen unless they put them on a barge and floated them downriver. No doubt they had their sights set on someone who needed them and could pay the price,” he said with a curl of his lips. He took her arm and urged her out of the clearing.
    Elija stood with his head resting on the neck of his horse and his hand in the small of his back.
    “Come on, Papa. We’ve got to go,” Liberty said quietly, too shocked at what she had just witnessed to be ashamed of her father’s weakness. She went to the tree where she’d left her rifle and then, with a quaking stomach and trying not to breathe too deeply of the smoke coming from the pyre, she walked on down the track beside Farr.
    “We’ll turn off into the woods and leave the wagon,” Farr said when they reached it. “If we travel all night we’ll be at my station by noon tomorrow.”
    Liberty, struggling to keep him from knowing how frightened she was, looked up at his still, grim face and felt a choking reluctance to begin asking questions, but it was not her nature to hold back. “Must we leave the wagon? It’s all we have.”
    “You have your life, and your sister and father have theirs. What are these things compared to that?” His penetrating eyes searched her face; and had Liberty been less distraught, she would have seen admiration there.
    She caught her lower lip firmly between her teeth and nodded. Her cornflower-blue eyes were full of torment, but her voice was steady when she said, “You’re right, Mr. Quill. We’ll do what you think best. Just tell us what to do.”
    “Good girl.” A ghost of a smile played around his grim mouth. His hand cupped her shoulder and squeezed gently. “I’ll come back for the wagon. I promise.” Farr was a man who appreciated courage in others, and without a doubt this slight woman was blessed with an abundance of it.
    Farr turned the wagon around, and they went back down the road a hundred yards. They were turning the oxen into the woods when Elija rode up. He didn’t say anything, just followed along behind the wagon, his shoulders slumped, his chin on his chest. Farr led them at a fast pace until they were deep into the forest. He urged the oxen around dead-falls and beneath branches so low they scraped the top of the wagon. Liberty walked behind the wagon leading the extra horse. She was exhausted when Farr finally stopped.
    “There’s no way we can hide the tracks. Let’s hope, if they come back, they’ll look no farther than the road. The way we turned the wagon, they may think you’ve turned back. Fill a bag with your valuables and some food, Liberty, and hurry.” Her name came so easily from his lips that he wasn’t aware he had said it. He helped her climb into the back of the wagon. “Amy can ride with her pa. You take the boy up with you and I’ll carry Mercy.”
    Liberty turned to look down at him. “No,” she said quietly. “I’ll hold the boy and Amy can ride behind me. Papa can hold Mercy in front of him. I think the sight back there sobered him.”
    Farr nodded. He opened his pack and took out powder and shot and another small pouch. He looked at Amy sitting on the floor of the wagon holding the small boy and winked. When she smiled, her whole face lit up. She would be a beauty someday, he thought. After he sat Mercy in front of Elija, he opened the pouch, took out a hard, brown flat cake, and held it up to the child. She looked at it, but made no move to reach for it. He put