Hunter’s Moon Page 13

  Darcey crossed the porch and tapped him on the shoulder. "Did Cindy tell you yet that she wanted a fireplace in the new room?"

  Simon looked up and grinned. "Only six times. Bill Wilson is gonna help me with it."

  "Bill's a fine man, isn't he?"

  "He sure is. The whole family is ceptin' Jarvis. I jest can't cotton to him, Darcey."

  Darcey laughed. "That's all right, Simon. Half the time I can't either."

  Yeller, at her feet, gave a warning growl. They looked up and saw Jarvis coming toward the cabin. Darcey frowned. It was too late to run to the attic. He had already seen her and was waving. She would have to stay there and try to act civil.

  It would be difficult, though. She had dreamed of Mike all night, and this morning she was in the lowest of moods. Jarvis stepped up on the porch, and she gave him a stinging glance. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you helping the men?"

  "I was helping them," he retorted. "But they sent me to spread the word that we're havin' our spring dance tomorrow night."

  Darcey shrugged listlessly and stared out over the river. Jarvis looked at her quizzically. "Aren't you excited, hon? This dance is almost as important as the harvest one. It's gonna be held in the schoolhouse and will last all night."

  What was exciting about going to a dance with Jarvis, she asked herself. He would be glued to her side every minute. Ever since her episode with Mike, he had been exceedingly jealous of every man who spoke to her.

  Then her face brightened. Mike would surely be there. Maybe he would ask her to dance. It would be wonderful to feel his hands upon her again, even if they were only on her waist.

  She turned to Jarvis. "If I go with you, will you stir up a fuss if I dance with other men?"

  He frowned and his eyes became alert and watchful. "I don't care who you dance with so long as it's not Mike."

  Darcey felt her face flush as she became angry that he had seen through her question. "Why not?" she flared out. "He's your brother, and everyone will think it strange if I don't dance with him."

  The suspicious glint remained in his eyes, and he didn't answer for several moments. Finally, "Hell, go ahead and dance with him. I doubt if he'll ask you. Meg is jealous as hell."

  Although anger grabbed her again, Darcey kept her silence. Jarvis was up to his old tricks again, and she would not be baited.

  Suddenly, she decided that she would play with him a bit. He was unaware that Clara had told her of his affair with Meg, and she might be able to trip him up in a lie.

  Smiling sweetly, she asked innocently, "What business is it of Meg Johnson's who Mike dances with. I have it on good authority that Mike visits a woman at Molly's every week, and I doubt that he even sees the disreputable Meg."

  The conversation wasn't going as Jarvis had planned it. What was more, he was a little alarmed that Darcey knew about Sarie. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering if she also knew of his visits.

  His voice was uncertain when he manufactured his next lie. "I don't know who Mike spends his nights with, but Meg goes to his cabin every day and I guess she thinks that gives her the right to think he belongs to her."

  He would have gone on embroidering his lie, but Darcey interrupted him shortly. "Who do you think her baby belongs to?"

  His eyes, for all their seemingly laziness, were penetrating as he sought to read from her face any doubts or suspicions she might have.

  He answered determinedly. "Why it's Mike's, of course. I told you before that he lays with her."

  She studied the handsome features that were so calm and innocent-looking. Her grandfather's words flashed through her mind. "A man who will lie about one thing will talk loosed-tongued on any other subject."

  She knew that this was true of Jarvis. He would tell any lie that would further his purpose of the moment.

  Into the uneasy silence she mused aloud. "I wonder? I've heard that she has lain with just about every man in these hills. Actually that baby could belong to anybody, couldn't it?"

  He stared at her for a moment; then his eyes slid nervously away as he answered gruffly, "I don't know."

  But before she could fire another question at him, he mumbled something unintelligible, and with a wave of his hand he was leaving.

  Darcey and Simon looked at each other and burst out laughing. When he was about out of sight, Darcey stuck out her tongue at his retreating back.

  The following morning, Darcey awoke just before daybreak. Outside, the hushed wilderness seemed to enfold the cabin in loving arms, and she sighed a contented sound. She lay curled up, trying to remember why she had this excited and expectant feeling. Then she remembered: Tonight was the spring dance.

  "Tonight I will see him," she whispered into her pillow.

  Thinking about Mike drove away all possibility of going back to sleep and, after turning and tossing, she arose and dressed.

  Quietly she descended the stairs and left the cabin. A soft mist hovered over the river and rolled into the forest. As she took the spring trail, it curled and floated around her feet in ghosty spirals. She shivered. The forest was a little eerie at this hour. When she arrived at the spring and drank from the gourd that always hung there, her eyes scanned the woods around her.

  Suddenly she stiffened. Farther up the path she caught a movement. She crouched to the ground and froze into position. At first, through the fog and shadow, she could not make out whether it was man or animal that moved toward her so carefully. Then finally, barely discernible through the mist, she made out a human form.

  She started violently, and a cold premonition of danger moved along her spine. Meg Johnson moved stealthily through the pale dawn.

  She didn't breathe until Meg had passed her and disappeared into the forest. "What is she doing out at this hour so far from home," ran through her mind. "The Johnson place is a good four miles from here."

  Then suddenly, it was all clear. Jarvis was telling the truth. Mike was seeing that awful woman.

  How long she remained kneeling at the spring, she had no knowledge. But the mists had evaporated, and the trees stood out clearly when she arose from her cramped position. Her welling tears blurred her vision, and she stumbled many times on her slow walk home.

  Mike, too, had awakened in the still hour before dawn. He lay quietly, his body shaken from a dream that had plunged him into the depths of his emotions. Darcey had walked in his dreams, and he lay a moment, remembering.

  And then, his reverie was broken. The hound's warning growl came from behind the cabin. He smiled. "Si has smelled a deer," he thought.

  He slipped quietly from the bed and picking up the rifle, padded to the window. His sharp eyes immediately found Meg hurrying across the field. His eyes filled with contempt as he watched her stumbling progress. For one wild moment he was tempted to follow her and keep good his threat. But then he rationalized that she didn't live with him yet. "And pray God she never does," he whispered.

  He watched her move out of sight and shook his head. "Stupid bitch. Sneakin' around, meetin' that lousy bastard again. He don't even see to it that she gets home all right."

  He turned impatiently from the window. Maybe later on, he would beat the hell out of Jarvis after all. He crawled back into bed and in the quiet dark, and wondered how it would all end.

  Returning home, Darcey got in bed and cried herself to sleep.

  She arose late and spent the rest of the day preparing for the dance. It was her fervent hope that she would look more beautiful tonight than she ever had in her life. At first she tried to tell herself that it was for her own sake she wished this. But her jeering conscience kept saying, "Who do you think you're fooling, Darcey Stevens?"

  It was true. She wanted Mike to see and want her, and then she would laugh and rebuff him.

  She finished her hair and was happy with it. She had pulled the front hair into large loose curls on top of her head. The back hair waved gently down her back with a single curly tendril before each ear.

  She had u
sed her rouge pot sparingly because her excitement had already lent color to her cheeks. Cindy, puffing up the stairs at that moment, studied the radiant face. "Every man at that dance will drool for her."

  She laid Darcey's dress on the bed. "Since when did Jarvis put that kind of look in your eyes?"

  She laughed. "I'm just excited about getting to go somewhere for a change."

  She walked to the window and stared out, biting nervously at her thumb. "I may announce my engagement tonight."

  She had toyed with the idea all day. Ever since she had seen Meg coming from the direction of Mike's cabin, her heart had cried out for revenge. She had to strike back at him. She had to hurt him, give him the same twisting pain that he had given her.

  Behind her, Cindy cried out, a worried and frantic note in her voice. "Darcey, child, are you sure about this? I know that you don't love that man. Please give yourself a little longer."

  "I don't know, Cindy. I'll see," she answered and stepped into her dress.

  The gown was a rich, black velvet, showing off her hair and bare shoulders. The bodice was tight around her tiny waist and pushed the bare tops of her breasts into full view. She did not have to hear Cindy's gasp to know how striking she looked. She had worn this dress many times before. It was a creation that Rafe had chosen for her.

  Cindy tugged at the bodice, trying to pull it higher. "That dress is gonna start a lot of fights tonight," she warned.

  Darcey shrugged her shoulders. "Good."

  Cindy started to speak, and then they heard Jarvis enter the cabin. He came to the foot of the stairs and called Darcey's name, loudly.

  "Damnit," she exclaimed. "Does he always have to shout?"

  She gave one last look at herself, then picked up her wrap and went downstairs. Jarvis gave one look at the dress and his face reddened angrily. "You're not wearing that dress," he roared. "You'll start more fights than I can handle."

  Her answer was an unconcerned, "Fiddle faddle. Have big brother Mike help you."

  She flung the wrap around her shoulders and was out of the house before he could answer.

  Simon had Ginger saddled and was waiting for her. As he handed her into the saddle and helped her to arrange her skirt, he grinned at her proudly and said softly, "You sure are somethin', sugar."

  A sharp pain of sadness shot through her as she recalled her grandfather saying those very words to her so many times.

  Jarvis followed her out of the cabin, his face dark with unspoken fury. Swinging into the saddle, he jerked the reins cruelly and started off. Darcey gave the grinning Simon a sly wink and followed him.

  She had never been to the hub of the settlement and was looking forward to it. She would have liked to ask questions, but since Jarvis wasn't talking, she studied the countryside. It was just coming on dusk, and the particular area they were riding through was benefited from its soft light. She could tell that by the harsh light of day it would show only barren ground dotted with large boulders and deep gullies.

  The ride was not long, and soon they were coming into the village. She was disappointed. It was really nothing more than a rough clearing in the middle of the forest. There were no neatly laid out streets or boardwalks. Nor were the buildings set in an orderly fashion as she had imagined they would be. Rather, it seemed that they had been built wherever there were no stumps. The buildings did however seem to form a sort of rough circle. In its center was a long, gray weather-beaten building, built low to the ground. On one end, a sign over the door proclaimed it a tavern. At the other end the sign said simply Post.

  To the right of this building and slightly below it was a blacksmith shop. And some distance behind the shop a grain mill straddled a stream. Then to the left was the small church and, sitting next to it, the schoolhouse.

  Then Darcey's eyes fell on a well-trodden path. It started from the tavern and led to a building that was long and narrow. Over the crude door was a sign that read, Molly's Place.

  All in all, the village, though plain and unpretentious, took care of the simple needs of the hill people.

  Darcey's greatest interest was in Molly's Place. From her mounted seat, the distance was too great to see clearly the feminine faces crowded around the two small windows. She could make out that they were smiling and waving to a group of men in front of the tavern. She wondered how many men from the dance would find their way up there before the night was over. Angrily, she imagined that Mike would, and she wondered which of the painted faces belonged to Sarie.

  The desire to see her was so strong that she found it difficult not to ride the mare up there and demand to see her. Then Jarvis was at her side, reaching up to help her dismount.

  Looking around, she recognized most of the women gathered in small groups. Many of these women, dressed in dark homespun, had not seen anyone but their family all winter long.

  Her club members called out friendly greetings, and she answered in the same vein.

  Her eyes searched for Clara but could see her nowhere. Either she had not arrived or she was inside directing the event. She smiled and concluded that Clara was inside. When it came to organizing, no one could snap orders like her beloved friend.

  It was total darkness in the village now, and only the lighted torches stuck into the ground on either side of the schoolhouse door brightened the area. From inside came the scraping of a fiddle and the plunking of a banjo as the two men tuned up for the dance.

  The groups outside began breaking up and gravitating toward the sound of the music, their eyes shining with excitement. Occasionally the high, nervous squeal or giggle of some young girl would rise as a young buck took advantage of the darkness to pinch a rump or hastily fondle a breast.

  Darcey wondered if Jim was one of those young men and quickly dismissed the idea. It was not in Jim's character to be sneaky about anything. If he caressed a breast, the girl would know of his intention and would welcome it.

  She and Jarvis followed a group inside, with Jarvis holding tightly to her arm. Once she winced and whispered angrily, "Please don't squeeze my arm off."

  And though his hold had loosened somewhat, he still retained a firm hold, and she knew that he intended to keep an eye on her.

  The first person she saw when she entered the schoolhouse was Mike. He stood with a group of men around the whiskey keg. From all signs, everyone had been helping himself freely. Loud talk and raucous laughter floated around them.

  Seeing him up close for the first time since the Indian scare, she felt her heart beating so hard that it pained her chest.

  His buckskin shirt was open at the neck, showing the bronzed swell of his throat and a good part of his chest. The rippling muscles that told of his physical strength were easily seen through the tight fit of the soft-skinned shirt. She suppressed the desire to run and throw herself into his arms.

  Mike, wishing he were somewhere else, half listened to the talk going on around him. Then suddenly, all conversation stopped and everyone's eyes were on the door. His glance followed theirs, and he caught his breath.

  She stood there, unbelievably lovely, and his old hunger for her ripped through his loins.

  The music started, and Jarvis swung her proudly onto the floor, his eyes glowing proud with ownership. They made a handsome couple, and Mike felt his insides tie into knots of jealousy.

  Clenching and unclenching his hands as they hung stiffly at his sides, he cursed himself for having come to this stupid affair. He had only come in the first place to get a glimpse of her, and now that he had, he couldn't stand the pain of it.

  He hadn't noticed before that Meg was at the dance, too. He was surprised that she came. But there she sat in a shadowed corner, beside her husband. A black scowl furrowed her forehead, and her eyes were filled with rage as she glared vindictively at Darcey.

  All thoughts of leaving left his mind. He must get to Meg, he thought, and began threading his way through the leaping and hopping couples.

  But as he dodged this way and that way, a
voiding elbows and high-kicking feet, he saw a group of the hill's most undesirable citizens making their way toward Jarvis and Darcey.

  He knew these men well and knew also that there was no way in the world that Jarvis could handle them. So, changing his course, he began pushing and shoving his way through the crowd.

  Darcey was unaware of the drunken men who reeled toward her. And when she was grasped by a pair of hands that bit cruelly into her arm, she gasped from the suddenness of it. Before she could comprehend what was going on, she was jerked roughly from Jarvis's arms. She stared into a stranger's face and became alarmed at the pure lust she saw. She twisted her body, her eyes searching frantically for Jarvis.

  But it was Mike's massive shoulders that pushed their way to her side. In his fury he looked as though he had just stepped out of hell, and the hill man's face blanched at the sight. A crooked, mirthless smile broke Mike's lips as he firmly took Darcey's arm and put her behind him.

  The music had stopped, and the voices of the merrymakers had become hushed. Everyone watched the two large men.

  "You lousy, bastard," Mike snarled and faster than thought his knotted fist lashed out, catching the man on the point of the chin with all the force in his right arm. The man's head dropped, his knees buckled, and he lay on the floor as if he were dead.

  A sigh of relief was heard throughout the room as friends of the unconscious man picked him up and carried him out.

  Darcey clung weakly to Mike's arm. Ignoring Jarvis's dark disapproval, she said softly, "Oh, Mike, I was so horribly afraid."

  And Mike, trembling from the touch of her hand, cried silently in mental anguish, "Oh, Darcey, you are a little bitch. You know damn well what you're doing to me."

  To hide his torment, he pulled away from her and said coolly, "What did you expect, wearing a dress like that around these wild hill men?"

  Her face blanched at his words, and she stepped back, staring at him out of pain-filled eyes. He spun on his heels and made for the door to take her into his arms and kiss away the hurt.

  But before he reached the door, a commotion broke out on the other side of the room. A man's deep voice and the high-pitched voice of a woman filled the air. Meg. He had forgotten about her. He wheeled around, then stopped. Abe Johnson, his face twisted with his rage, stood over Meg, spitting obscenities and accusations at her. And she, looking like a trapped rat, was screaming back insult for insult.