But Sissy never heard the words as she slipped back into sleep. Christopher straightened. “I’ll keep watch. The next few hours will be critical. We’ll pray there’s no brain swelling, but it seems likely there will be. We may have to drill a hole through the bone to release the pressure.”
“Now then, Dr. Clayton,” Mother said with an edge of reprimand to her voice, “you either believe the Good Lord is faithful to answer the prayers of His children or you don’t. We’ll pray His will and trust that it includes Sissy’s healing. I can see death being a more perfect way of meeting that, but I would be sorely distressed to lose my friend.” Mother squeezed Sissy’s hand one more time, then slowly released it. “I’m going to go start some breakfast. I’ll bring you both a plate when it’s ready.”
“Thank you, Miz Vandermark,” Christopher replied. He went to wash the blood from his hands as she exited the room.
Deborah stared down at Sissy’s damaged body. The older woman had been a part of their family as long as Deborah had been alive. She had taught Deborah to weave baskets from reeds, to can her first batch of grape jam, to catch catfish in the river. The woman could truly do almost anything. At least she had been able to do those things. What would happen if she was unable to function normally?
Tears fell hot on her cheeks, and Deborah couldn’t help but speak her thoughts aloud. “She’s always been there for me . . . for all of us. I can’t imagine losing her.” Her voice cracked. “Sissy has always been family. She will always be family.”
Christopher crossed the room and took Deborah in his arms as she began to sob. For several minutes, she found it impossible to compose herself. She shook from the intensity of her emotions. She could feel Christopher’s hands on her head stroking her haphazardly fashioned hair. The ribbon that tied back the bulk of her tresses easily gave way under the new attention and Deborah’s ebony locks fell about her like a veil.
“Life is hard, my dear. Injustice and misery will always be dreaded companions.”
She tried to speak, but words would not come. Burying her face against his shirt, Deborah let out all of the fear and frustration she’d been feeling. How would she ever manage to help comfort Mother if Sissy died? She needed to bolster her strength, but Deborah felt as though she had none.
For a long while Christopher held her and let her cry. Deborah had never been so long in another person’s arms – especially not a man. There had been times when her father had consoled her after a fall from a horse or the death of a beloved pet, but those times were never so lengthy. Aunt Wilhelmina had held her while she cried after learning about her father’s death, and Mother had comforted her several times since. But this was different.
“You have the most beautiful hair,” he whispered against her ear.
“I’ve so often wanted to see it down like this – to touch it.”
Deborah stilled in his arms. She allowed her mind to clear and her body to relax in his embrace. It wasn’t in keeping with propriety that she should be here in her nightclothes with the man she hoped to one day marry, but at such a time as this, there was surely no condemnation. Or was there? Didn’t the Bible speak about weakwilled women? Was this one of those moments?
Her conscience got the better of her, and Deborah straightened and pulled away. Here the worst thing possible had happened – good men had been murdered, Sissy had been beaten – and Deborah was thinking of romance. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall to pieces. Maybe I won’t make a good doctor after all.”
Christopher shook his head and glanced back to where Sissy remained asleep. “You did all that was required. Do you suppose I never break down after dealing with folks? That’s why doctors are better off not tending their own family members. It’s often hard to be objective when the broken body before you is that of a loved one.”
“It seems you would be most competent in dealing with those folks,” Deborah countered. “Because you care more for them than anyone else.”
“True, but emotions can blind you, paralyze you. I once saw a doctor back East unable to amputate the mangled arm of his son. The young man had caught it in a thresher, and in order to save his life, the arm had to be completely severed. The father knew it would cost his son’s life to do nothing, but he couldn’t bring himself to do the job.”
“And so you did?” Deborah asked.
“Yes. I was but a student, with a great deal to learn. But under the circumstances, I had to do what I could.” Christopher looked away. “Sometimes life is like that. The choices we must make are made of necessity – to do nothing would be far worse.”
“Some would say otherwise. They would tell you that you acted above your station or your training. In my case, it’s a matter of acting in an unladylike manner or interest. Doing nothing is often expected – especially of women.”
He looked at her with great consideration. “I suppose you’re right. I hadn’t thought of it that way. It seems that sometimes doing nothing at all is the lesser of two evils, but it isn’t. I have often heard people complain of having no choices, but I believe there is always some sort of opportunity we can take hold of.”
“I hope choices are made to put an end to this injustice. I can’t believe anyone could be so cruel.” Deborah went back to Sissy’s side. “Her family . . . George and David . . . they were both good people. Sissy would have taken in a complete stranger if there was need. She would feed any hungry soul, no matter the color of his skin or whether he was Christian or not.”
“Hate grows where fear and misunderstanding thrive,” Christopher replied.
Deborah looked at him and nodded. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s the reason behind this hatred of blacks. Fear – misunderstanding – a lack of knowledge. People are terrified of anything that seems different than what they’re familiar with – anyone who threatens their beliefs and way of living.”
“And knowing that should be the beginning of understanding.” Christopher met her gaze. “But it seldom is.”
CHAPTER 2
Shortly before breakfast, Deborah slipped back upstairs to dress. She donned a simple brown calico gown and pinned her hair back in a serviceable knot, then tied an apron around her waist. She smiled, remembering that in Philadelphia she had never once worn an apron. It wasn’t acceptable for women of society. Aprons were worn by servants.
“Well, I’m a servant now,” she said aloud. With a quick upward glance she offered a silent prayer that she would be a useful one.
She rejoined Christopher in her mother’s room and noted that Sissy’s coloring looked a bit better. “Perhaps it’s wishful thinking, but she doesn’t seem so pale.”
He nodded. “There’s some improvement. Her pulse is stronger. Your mother brought some ice for the swelling. It should continue to help.”
Deborah took a seat beside the bed. “I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier. Falling apart and all.”
Christopher squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said, his voice soft and warm.
Deborah felt almost lulled to a rest by his smooth, comforting tone, then realized she was letting herself get carried away again. Why am I being such a ninny? She stood in an attempt to shake off the emotion of the moment.
“I tried to speak with the constable about what happened. He’s out there investigating right now, but he says little can be done. The White Hand of God is comprised of men from several counties. They wear masks and cannot be identified. They claim they are doing God’s work – righting a wrong done by the emancipation of slaves. They use the Bible as a basis of support for slavery, declaring that anyone who would go against such a thing is going against God himself.”
Christopher shook his head. “It’s ignorant.”
“But the Bible does approve slavery,” she replied. “The very verse that was left behind on George speaks to that issue.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say it’s an approval of all slavery,” Christopher said thoughtfully. “The Bible does speak to the a
ttitudes and issues of slaves and masters, but does that really suggest an approval? I hardly see slavery as God’s institution. Doesn’t the Bible speak about Jesus coming to set us free? That we are all slaves to sin?”
Deborah considered his words for a moment. “That’s really the first sensible thing I’ve heard yet in regard to slavery.”
“Not only that,” Christopher continued, “but while the Bible does give guidelines to slaves and owners, it also quite readily speaks out against one man stealing and selling another. It says that such a man should be put to death.”
Her eyes widened. “Truly? I never read that verse.”
“It’s in Exodus. Of course, we also have to remember that slavery was not the same in the Bible as what we saw here in America. On occasion, people in the time of the Bible put themselves into slavery to pay a debt. Some even chose to be slaves, for if they had a master, that person would clothe and feed them and keep them housed. It left the untrained and those without kin or other means of support with hope for a future. Some servitudes were only for a set number of years – rather like some apprenticeships or indenture-ments here in America.”
“I never knew that,” Deborah replied. “But given what you’ve just said, most slavery here in America was wrong.”
“Absolutely.” He felt Sissy’s brow. “Much of the slavery here was born of man-stealing. People were torn from their families and homes, often stolen by enemy tribesmen to be sold. There was corruption at every level and from every society.”
Deborah shook her head. “But to commit such heinous crimes and further that corruption . . . ” She sighed. “It’s beyond anything I can understand.”
Sissy stirred and opened her eyes as best she could. “Miss Deborah?”
“I’m here, Sissy. Dr. Clayton is here, too. We’ve stayed with you – Mama, too.”
“My head’s ’bout to burst. What happened?”
Deborah looked at Christopher and then back to the older woman. “What do you remember?”
Sissy closed her eyes, and for a moment, Deborah thought maybe she’d fainted again. But the woman’s eyes opened once more. “I know there was trouble. Some men comed to the house.” She shook her head. “I don’t ’member much more. Where’s George?”
Deborah bit her lip and looked to Christopher for help. He seemed resigned to the job of telling Sissy the bad news. “I’m sorry, Miz Jackson.”
“What are you sayin’?” The woman struggled to rise but had no strength and flattened back against the pillow.
Christopher put his hand on her shoulder. “You have a severe head injury. You must remain still. We can talk about everything when you are feeling better.”
She gripped his hand with surprising strength. “No. Tell me now. Tell me everythin’.”
Just then Deborah’s mother stepped into the room. Rob and Arjan were with her. It was as if the trio had been summoned. Mother crossed quickly to Sissy’s side.
“I see you’re awake.”
“Doc won’t tell me ’bout George. You tell me.”
“George and David have crossed over Jordan,” Mother said softly. “Arjan and Rob tried to save them, but they were too late.”
“No. No,” Sissy moaned and shook her head ever so slightly.
“Ain’t true. Not my David. Not my George. Oh, Lord . . . oh, Father, he’p me.”
Mother took hold of Sissy’s hand and gave her forearm a gentle rubbing. “I know how terrible it is to lose your man, Sissy. I will stand by you through this pain. You will stay here with us, and I will see to your wounds.”
“Can’t be so,” the woman sobbed. Tears oozed out from her swollen eyes. “Oh, Jesus, say it ain’t to be this way.”
Deborah turned away; it hurt too much to watch Sissy bear the news. She walked from the room without another word, only to find Zed Perkins waiting at the front door. The sight of the town’s founder gave her new determination.
“I heard about the trouble at the Jacksons’ last night,” he said as Deborah let him into the house.
She nodded. “George and David are dead. They were hanged, and the house burned to the ground. Sissy was badly beaten but managed to run away. She made it here before collapsing.”
“I am sorry.” Zed took off his hat and bowed his head. “Will she live?”
Deborah shrugged. “God alone knows. She’s suffered a tremendous blow to the head.”
Zed nodded. “Seems our sorrows continue to grow.”
“Sissy just learned the truth about George and David. Mother and the others are with her. You can imagine the horror of it all.”
“Yes.” Zed looked beyond Deborah. “Dr. Clayton . . . will she live?”
Deborah turned to find Christopher behind her. She felt a sense of relief at the sight of him.
“It’s hard to say, but I have done all I can. I will remain here until I’m certain she is out of danger. If anyone needs me – you can direct them here or have Miz Foster see to them.”
Zed gave a slow nod before adding another comment. “Ralph said murder was done.”
“Two men were beaten and hanged,” Christopher replied. “Mrs. Jackson is fighting for her life, but her husband and son are dead.”
Mr. Perkins nodded. “I am sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?”
“You could catch the killers,” Deborah said matter-of-factly.
Mr. Perkins met her stern expression. “I’d like to do just that. Seems hard to figure who’s to blame, though.”
“They claim to be part of the White Hand of God.” Deborah put her hands on her hips. “Surely someone knows something about this if there are members in the area.”
“You don’t figure folks will just offer up such information, do you?” Zed Perkins questioned.
“What information?” Rob asked as he and G.W. joined the trio.
“Your sister suggested that we could nose around – ask folks to betray their loved ones and reveal who might have been involved in this mess.”
Rob looked at Deborah and nodded. “And why not? Not everyone is going to agree with such actions. Laws were broken – lives were taken.”
“But they were . . . ” Mr. Perkins fell silent, but Deborah refused to let him off that easily.
“But they were black? Is that what you were going to say?”
Mr. Perkins looked uneasy. “You know how folks think.”
“I do,” she replied, “but that doesn’t make it right. Surely if it is put to the people around here that this isn’t a matter of skin color but of murder, then maybe we could catch those responsible.”
G.W. seemed less convinced. “I think you would be hard-pressed to get folks around here to talk. There’s a code of silence when it comes to such things. Remember a few years back, when all that thieving took place? A lot of folks knew who was responsible, but nobody was talkin’.”
“Maybe we should offer a reward,” Deborah suggested. She looked to her brothers. “Perhaps that would loosen tongues.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Christopher said, surprising her. “My guess is that more people will stand in support of last night’s activities than against them.”
Deborah turned in disbelief. “How can you say such a thing?” “Because this isn’t the first time I’ve seen such things,” he replied, turning away. “I’m going to check on Sissy.”
Deborah wanted to question him further, but let him go. Instead, she turned to Mr. Perkins. “Couldn’t you hire additional men to help keep order?”
“I’ve already mentioned that to Ralph. I can put additional men around town, but that won’t help the folks who live away from the area, like Sissy’s family.”
Deborah glanced at G.W. “At least an additional show of force might quell the next act of violence. What if we hired some men to act as guards?”
“Guards for each of our black workers?” G.W. asked. “We can hardly afford that. We don’t even have a guard on the campsite – we rely on the workers to keep order and watch over th
e equipment.”
“I cannot accept that nothing can be done. Surely good people will rise up against such matters.” At least she prayed it might be so. “I still think we should offer a reward for information revealing who was responsible.”
“Let’s see what Ralph can find out with his investigation.” Mr. Perkins gave Deborah a weak smile. “Seems reasonable that we should let the law take charge to resolve the matter.” He tipped his hat. “Please give my best to your mother. I’ll be heading back to town now.”
The threesome followed the older man outside. G.W. and Rob exchanged a few inaudible words with Zed while Deborah waited on the porch. She hoped they were stressing the need for action. If the good people of the area didn’t take a stand, this kind of behavior would continue.
Euphanel sat beside Sissy long after Dr. Clayton had gone. There was little anyone could do but watch and wait. Only time would reveal whether the injuries would take her friend’s life.
Euphanel lifted Sissy’s hand and held it tight. It was hard to see the once-vital woman so lifeless. Euphanel pushed down her anger.
Why had God allowed such a horrible thing to happen? Why were good, God-fearing folks victims of such evil?
“I’m so sorry, Sissy,” she murmured.
“Sorry?” The woman’s barely audible voice caused Euphanel to open her eyes.
“I thought you were sleeping. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“What you sorry for, Nellie?”
Euphanel smiled at her friend’s use of her childhood nickname. “That this happened. That you have to endure such a thing.”
“You ain’t done nothin’ to be sorry about,” Sissy said, moving her head slowly from side to side. “Ain’t fittin’ for you to be sorry.”
“You’re my dear friend,” Euphanel replied. “We’ve been through so many things together. When Rutger was killed, you never left my side. I wouldn’t have made it through those awful days without you. I want to help you – like you helped me.”
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