Authors: Kentucky Bride
“Big Jim wants revenge for that day at the riverfront?” asked Shelton.
“That is certainly some of it, but there seems to be more.” Ballard shrugged. “I cannae figure it all out yet.” He looked at Clover. “Are ye all right, dearling?”
“Fine. It was just a bit of a shock to see him here. Do you have many enemies, Ballard?”
“A few. I dinnae set out to make them, but that doesnae stop me from collecting them. Dinnae fret over it, lass. We will keep a close watch. I have dealt with tougher foes than that oaf.”
As she watched Ballard walk away, Clover knew he was not making an idle boast. Ballard MacGregor would be a hard man to bring down, but he was not invincible, and that knowledge stirred her fears. She could not shake the feeling that she was the cause of the trouble he now faced, and not simply because he had rescued her from Big Jim that day on the waterfront. But the only person who might want to hurt her was Thomas Dillingsworth, and she could not believe he would come all the way to Kentucky to satisfy some twisted need for revenge. He enjoyed his creature comforts too much, for one thing.
“Heed your man,” Molly advised as she handed Clover a cup of punch. “He can take care of himself.”
“I know.” Clover took a bracing sip of the alcoholic brew. “I feel very confident of Ballard’s ability to protect me. What troubles me is that although we know some threat hangs over us, we do not know when the danger will come or why. Our enemies
know a great deal more about us than we do about them, and that is never good.”
“Well, if I be judging it right, those men now talking to Mr. MacGregor are offering their help.”
“That is certainly some comfort.”
“Pssst.”
Clover frowned and looked at Molly. “Yes?”
“I made no noise. Sounded like it came from under the table.” She glanced down and signaled Clover to do the same.
When she looked down, Clover found herself staring into a pair of familiar brown eyes. The little boy’s face was marked by several bruises. He had obviously suffered even more of Morrisey’s brutality since their brief meeting in Clemmons’s store on her first day in Kentucky. Such behavior was beyond her comprehension.
“Hello again,” she said.
“How do, ma’am. Could I be troubling you to hand me down a bit of cake?”
Although she cautiously slipped the child a piece of apple cake, she asked, “Why not just fill up a plate like everyone else?”
“I been bad and they told me I ain’t to have none of this fine food. That be my punishment.” His words were a little garbled as he tried to eat and talk at the same time.
She slipped him a chicken leg, at the same time looking around for his family. The Morriseys were bunched together in a far corner of the hall. A few women stopped to talk to a bone-thin gray-haired woman whom Clover knew must be the beleaguered Bess, but only one man was talking to the brutish Morrisey. Everyone in the family held heavily laden
plates of food, which they were wolfing down. Clover suspected the food was what they had mainly come for. There was a gentle tug on her skirts and she slipped the boy some bread, wishing she could do more for him.
“I think that pig Morrisey must be looking for the lad,” Molly whispered as she sneaked a cup of sweet apple cider down to him.
The boy cursed, causing Molly and Clover to exchange amused smiles. “I was hoping they be too busy eating to see that I done crept away,” the boy muttered, then downed the cider and returned the cup to Molly. “Reckon I best creep back.”
“Make sure you brush all those crumbs off,” Clover advised, then looked down to see that he was already gone. “I hope he heeded me. ‘Tis bad enough to know I cannot help him, but ‘tis worse to think I might cause him more pain simply because I gave him some food.”
“A boy kept that hungry does not fret over a beating. He will endure it if it means he can fill his empty belly.”
“That is so sad.”
Molly shrugged. “I fear the world ain’t always a pretty place, Clover MacGregor.”
Clover watched the Morriseys until the boy appeared back in the group. Morrisey swung a fist at the boy but he neatly ducked the blow. The second time Morrisey struck out, the child tumbled to the ground. As he tried to scramble out of reach, Morrisey kicked him in the ribs. Not one sound escaped the child, which further troubled Clover.
The Morriseys had finished what Big Jim had
begun. They had taken away the last shred of her enjoyment of the evening.
“Ballard?” Clover leaned against her husband as he drove their wagon home. The rest of their family dozed in the back while Shelton kept a close watch on the road ahead of them. “Are you very certain we can do nothing about that boy of Mr. Morrisey’s?”
“Aye, lass. Sorry. The whole demmed town has been trying to come up with the money Morrisey wants, but I have a strong suspicion that if we ever get it together, he would just demand more and we would be back where we started.”
“You are probably right. And I suppose there is nothing we can do about Big Jim’s threats until he acts on them.”
“Not unless I want to face the circuit judge next time he meanders this way.”
She curled her arm around his and snuggled closer to his warmth. “That is not exactly the news I want to hear. Ballard, do you think the other enemy Big Jim referred to is Thomas?” She yawned and closed her eyes, nuzzling her cheek against his strong arm.
“It could be, lass, but I would be surprised if Thomas bothered to chase us down here. He considers Kentucky uncivilized, the end of the world. I cannae see him inconveniencing himself. I reckon we will just have to wait and see.”
“Wait and see and do nothing. You know, I never would have thought that those two things would be so hard.”
Ballard smiled faintly when Clover barely finished her sentence before falling asleep. He tightened his
arm around her shoulders, holding her more securely against him. She was right. It would be hard to wait and watch. Ballard ached to prevent any danger before it got within miles of her, but he had no choice. He must wait until Big Jim, and whatever ally he had, made the first move. And pray that he would be able to thwart them.
Clover waved as the carriage carrying Molly, Agnes, Jonathan Clemmons, and Colin Doogan drove away. It had been only a week since the spring revel, but Jonathan and Colin were clearly eager to get down to the business of courting, without further delay. Clover was pleased that Molly and her mother were going to have a leisurely day of relaxation, but she heartily wished she could go with them. Their absence also meant that she would be completely responsible for doing the chores and preparing supper. Clover was not sure she was ready for such independence.
She was just about to return to the house when Ballard emerged from the barn and reached her side in several long strides. His dark expression made her tense with concern.
“Lass, your ma and Molly just left, didnae they?”
“Yes. Do you need them back? I am sure you can catch them if we have to.”
He shook his head. “Nay, ‘twould only be so someone could stay with ye for an hour or so, mayhap
more. One of my mares is missing. One of the fence rails got knocked down and she slipped out of her paddock. She is one of my best breeders. I will need every pair of eyes I have at hand to find her.”
“Do you want me to come too?”
“Nay, ye stay here, lass. Just keep to the house and dinnae let anyone in.”
“Ballard, do you think someone let her out on purpose?”
He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. “I cannae say, love. If the mare is only roaming free, ‘tis just a petty revenge, but if she is gone or hurt, it could prove to be a costly one.” He kissed her cheek. “I dinnae think ye are in danger. I can leave Adam or your brothers here, if it will make ye feel better.”
“No. You need Adam, and the boys are only eight. They could hardly protect me if something should happen. Are you sure they will be much help to you?”
“Aye. They can look about as well as I can. Last week they found that lost pig, if ye recall.”
“Yes, of course. Go. We must not let that oaf Big Jim rule our lives with his threats. I will be fine. To tell the truth, I do not think Big Jim Wallis is clever enough to plan my deliberate abduction. He would just charge in blindly.”
Ballard laughed and nodded. “Aye, I think ye judge the mon right.” He gave her a quick kiss. “Stay in the house and I will be back as soon as I can.”
“Good luck,” she called as he loped off.
Clover watched the men ride away, her brothers sharing the horse Ballard had given them. Just as she headed back into the house, she heard an odd creaking sound, as if someone was trying to approach her unseen and unheard along the veranda. She stood
still and listened hard, every muscle tensed. Even as she was thinking that she ought to run into the house, the Morrisey boy scrambled nimbly up and over the veranda railing.
“Oh, you gave me a fright. What are you doing here?”
“I just come to visit. Is that all right?” He edged closer and gave her a tentative smile.
“Well, ‘tis fine with me, but will you get into trouble?”
“I already be in trouble today. Thought to meself, well, you gonna get a beating anyway so why not later instead of sooner. So I decided to come a-calling.”
“Pleased to have you.” She pointed to the washing bowl set on a table near the door. “Just wash your face and hands and then you can come inside.” While he did as she asked, she studied him. “What is your name?”
“Brat,” he mumbled as he rubbed his face dry with the cloth hanging on a peg by the bowl.
“That is a horrible name. You must have another.”
“Nope. Weren’t never given no proper name and Brat’s one of the nicer ones the Morriseys call me.”
She shook her head as she ushered him inside. “I simply cannot call you by that name. Do you have another name you might like, one you might give yourself if you had a choice?”
He sat at the kitchen table, watching Clover with wide eyes as she filled a plate of food for him, and considered her suggestion. Finally he said, “Willie.”
“Willie? Why did you choose that name?” She sat down opposite him as he wolfed down the food and cider she served him. The child was fed barely enough to keep him alive.
“I just always liked it. Sorry,” he said as he tried to wipe up the crumbs that had sprayed from his mouth.
Clover smiled. “You are forgiven—this time. But if you intend to visit me often, I will have to teach you some table manners. How old are you, Willie?”
“Near as I can figure, I be about eleven, maybe twelve.”
It was not easy for Clover to hide her shock. She would not have guessed he was any older than the twins, probably younger, for he was so small and thin. Lack of nourishment had clearly stunted his growth.
“Morrisey says I be a runt. He says all Indians are runts—little, bandy-legged, and stupid.”
“If that were true, then the settlers would not have had so much trouble taking their land from them, would they?”
Willie nodded and smiled his thanks when she refilled his cup with sweet cider. “I figured that much for meself. I know all the folk ‘round here ain’t poor fighters either.”
“Have you ever thought of running away to join your father’s people, the Shawnee?”
“Once or twice, but they’d be hating my white half and I ain’t been brought up Indian.” He tensed, listening. “Rider coming.”
Clover heard the rider approaching a moment after Willie spoke. She quickly got the musket down from over the fireplace. Ballard had not taught her how to fire the thing yet. She did not even know if it was loaded. But she hoped that whoever was now banging on her door would not guess that.
“Open this door, woman. I know you got that brat in there.”
“Morrisey,” Willie whispered, and stuffed his mouth with the last of his food.
“Calm down, Willie,” Clover said, hoping she could follow her own advice as she opened the door and aimed the musket at the red-faced man standing there. “What do you want, Mr. Morrisey?”
He took a step back. “I want that boy. He is mine and I have a judge’s word on that, so don’t you be trying to steal him.”
“He will be home when he has finished sharing a meal with me.”
“He ain’t got time to be socializing like some demmed gentleman.” He took a step toward her but quickly retreated when she steadied her aim. “He is mine, woman, and the law says you gotta give him back.”
“As much as I hate to, I will obey the law. But he is a visitor in my house and I refuse to let you drag him off. He will come home when our visit is over and not before.” She frowned when Morrisey glared at the boy.
“It’d be right smart of you to come home with me now, brat, or you will be paying dearly for this game. You know how I treat disobedience.”
“‘Tis that child’s misfortune to know exactly how you treat anything and anyone smaller and weaker than you,” said Clover. “I believe it would be a grave error in judgment on your part if you made this child suffer for visiting me.”
“Oh, it would, huh? And just what will you be doing about it?”
“Let me suggest”—she aimed her musket at his crotch—“that you consider what life would be like if you no longer had anything dangling between your
legs.” When he flinched and covered his privates, she flashed him a cold smile.
“That be agin the law.”
“If I claimed I did it in self-defense, I suspect it would be difficult to find anyone who would dispute my story.”
Morrisey glared at her and the boy for another full minute before he strode from the house, mounted, and rode off. She kept her musket aimed at him until he was out of sight. After shutting the door and replacing the musket over the fireplace, she returned to the kitchen table. Willie was staring at her, his brown eyes wide.
“That were a right fine thing you done for me, ma’am. Right fine. It won’t be making no nevermind though. He might be too scared to whup me for this, but he will whup me good for something else.”
“I am afraid you are right. Then again, my interference has allowed you to stay here until you decide to leave. And you might even be able to come back another time if you feel inclined to.”