“Before we finalize our plans for the Independence Day festivities,” the pastor began, “I feel it’s important we speak on the tragedy that has befallen our county.”
There were murmurings and a barely audible curse. Stunned, Deborah turned to throw a disapproving glare in the direction of whoever might have said such a thing in God’s house. Her mother did likewise, along with several of the other older women.
Artemus Shattuck let the matter go, however. He tucked his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I have a grave concern for this community. It seems to me that folks have closed their eyes to bad behavior in hopes that it will simply depart. I have rarely seen such a thing happen. It is important that we take a stand – together as a town – against the prejudices and injustices we’ve seen of late.”
“I thought we were figuring out where to set up the judging booths for the quilts,” an older woman declared.
“Yeah, I figured you were going to let us know what time the fiddlers and pickers were to commence playin’,” a man in front of Deborah called out.
“All of that in due time. I hoped while I had your attention, it would be fitting to remind you of our recent tragedies so that we might prevent such things from happening again. After all, we wouldn’t want such things to interfere with our preparations. I’m sure everyone here would agree that this is a community celebration. We wouldn’t want anyone to feel left out or slighted. Given the problems we’ve seen of late, I fear that some of our black brothers and sisters might feel intimidated or fearful of attending.”
“Long as they stay in their place, it won’t be a problem.” This came from Zed Perkins’s eldest son, Todd. “We’ve always had a place where they could celebrate, as well.”
“I had rather thought it might do us all well to include the black community in our own celebration. Unite the two parts of our town and get to know one another better,” Pastor Shattuck declared.
A hush fell over the room. Folks grew uneasy. It was evident that they felt the pastor had lost his mind.
“We are all of different ancestry here. I’m of German and English descent. The Vandermarks are Dutch. The Huebners are German. The Fosters have Scottish and English ancestors. Doc Clayton sports an English name, and the founder of our town told me not long ago that his family has roots not only in England, as the name Perkins suggests, but also he shares a connection with the French. We have our differences, but we all have one thing in common. We are Texans. Before we are Americans or anything else – we proudly bear the name Texan.”
Deborah saw several people nod in approval. At least that much was well received. She met Christopher’s gaze and smiled. She’d never thought of his name being English. The fact was, there was still a great deal she didn’t know about the man. He spoke very little of his family except to say they needed his help. She would have to make a special point to get him to tell her more.
“Folks, what I’m trying to say here is that we’re in a sorry state of existence when we focus on a man’s skin color rather than his actions. The Good Book says God doesn’t even see the outward appearance of man, but looks at his heart. Oughten we do the same?”
Pastor Shattuck came down from the pulpit and stood directly in front of the congregated people. “We want to celebrate our independence, but I don’t see how we can do that by trying to restrict others. I’d like to suggest we start a new tradition. Let’s have a black and white baseball game on our Texas Independence Day.”
Deborah heard some grumbling, but then Zed Perkins stood and raised his hands. “Look, I think we need to get back to planning our festivities. I’m not opposed to a black and white baseball game. Seems likely they won’t be very good, considering they don’t get to play much, but I don’t object.” He looked to the gathered crowd.
Deborah thought his gaze lingered a little longer on some of the men. Perhaps he knew their hearts and wondered just as she did whether or not they had been involved. It was most disturbing to imagine that killers could lurk in their own little town. What if her friends and neighbors were amongst those who had killed George and David?
“Most of you know that I have my own issues with Injuns and Mexicans. Ain’t necessarily somethin’ I’m proud of, but it’s just the way things are. I hire blacks, same as whites. I pay a fair salary for a fair day’s work. I don’t want to see any more killings in our town. I’d just as soon the White Hand of God not show itself around these parts anymore.” He turned back to Pastor Shattuck. “But you ain’t gonna change the way folks think overnight.”
Pastor Shattuck smiled. “I didn’t figure I could, but I do know that God is able to change the heart of any man or woman, and that is my prayer.”
The discussion moved quickly after that to the original reason they’d gathered. When the plans were finally agreed upon an hour later, Deborah was more than ready to stand and stretch her legs.
She looked at her mother and offered her a hand up.
“Seems like these issues should get a little easier to discuss each time they’re brought up,” Mother said, sounding bitter. “But they don’t. Folks just seem unwilling to forget about the past and about our differences. Maybe it will never change. Maybe the color of a person’s skin will always be the only thing people can see.”
Deborah pondered her mother’s words as Christopher came to join them. He appeared to have heard the latter part of the conversation.
“Introducing change is never easy,” he said, nodding his head toward the two women. He then turned to Deborah’s mother. “If it won’t delay your departure, I have some medical journals your daughter should read.”
“How soon do you plan to head home, Mother?” Deborah asked.
“Not for a little while. I have shopping to do, and G.W. and Rob were headed to the hardware store to pick up new saw blades. You go along. We’ll come fetch you at the doctor’s office when we’re fixin’ to go.”
Turning to Christopher, Deborah smiled. “It seems I can manage a little time.”
He nodded but didn’t offer her his arm. Deborah walked easily at Christopher’s side, keeping pace with his long strides. She liked the way he carried himself – so sure and confident.
“Before we talk medicine, I wondered if we might talk about you,” Deborah said, smiling. “It seems you know so much about me and my kin. When Pastor mentioned you were of English ancestry, I realized that I knew very little about you. You have family in Kansas City, and you’re the eldest of fifteen children, but what else?”
Christopher shrugged. “There’s not all that much to tell. You know that my father is crippled and my mother does what she can to keep the family together. There are still five children at home.”
“Tell me about them,” she insisted. They walked to the doctor’s office and house, and Deborah pointed to the porch. “Let’s sit out here to avoid all suspicion.”
Christopher chuckled. “You think that will reduce concern, do you?” He allowed her to step onto the porch first.
Deborah quickly took a seat and waited for him to join her. “I think it will help. Folks seem uncertain as to what our relationship constitutes. With me seeking to learn about medicine and our courtship arrangement . . . well, I believe we have quite baffled most of the community.”
“How so?”
“Well, women do not seek out jobs, especially ones that require them to train with men. And we had no formal announcement of our courtship, so most folks believe us to merely be in the early stages of trying to decide if we want to court.” She shrugged. “But let them guess. I’ve never been conventional.”
“I’m sure you speak the truth.” He grinned.
She leaned back and smiled. “So tell me about the children who are at home. How old are they and what are their names?”
He looked rather hesitant as he settled back against the wooden chair and rubbed his bearded chin for a moment. “Well, I suppose it’s just as easy to start with the youngest. Jonah is five a
nd a rascal.
Emma is eight and a very serious young woman. There would have been a ten-year-old, but Daniel died at birth.
“Darcy is twelve. She’s a feisty young lady who grew up with too many older, ornery brothers. She’s a bit of a wild one at times.”
“I know how that can be. I had only brothers,” Deborah replied.
“Go on.”
“All right . . . next is Thomas – he’s thirteen. I think I told you that. James is next. We call him Jimmy. He’s fifteen and quite the scholar. He loves school and has fought hard to continue his education. He works selling newspapers at the crack of dawn and then again in the evening and attends school during the day. My da – father thinks it a waste of time, but I’ve encouraged Jimmy to continue.”
Deborah couldn’t help but wonder at his stumbled words, but said nothing. “Surely your father can see the good you made of your education,” she offered.
Christopher frowned momentarily. “He thought I should have come to work with him on the railroad. He’s never had much regard for doctors. He thinks us all nothing but killers who act with society’s blessing.”
“I’m sorry. That seems such a shame.”
He shrugged. “He’s known so many bad ones, I can’t really blame him. Anyway, John would be next. He died when he was seven. Next come the ‘the swing-gate boys’ as my father nicknamed them. Calvin is nearly twenty, Andrew is twenty-one, and Benjamin is twenty-three.”
“Why does your father call them ‘the swing-gate boys’?”
“Because they used to leave home and return so much that my father says they should have a swinging gate on the front of the house instead of a door. They’re always getting into trouble. They don’t have much schooling between the lot of them – spent more time using their brawn than their brains. Andrew made money for a time in boxing, but Benjamin and Cal looked for easier means to make a living. They haven’t been heard from in a while.” He quickly moved on.
“Samuel would have been twenty-four – almost twenty-five had he lived. He died at the age of three after falling off a swing. The wooden seat hit him in the head and knocked him to the ground. That would have been bad enough, but he impacted his head on a rock. He lingered for several days but never regained consciousness. My mother was inconsolable.”
“Goodness . . . that would be so very hard.” Deborah shook her head. “Poor woman.”
“It was a sad time for all of us. My father had been especially fond of Samuel. I think some of his love of life went into the grave with my brother. He was never quite the same after that. I tried hard to offer solace, but my father chose other means of comfort.”
“Such as?” Deborah braved the question.
Christopher stiffened and looked toward the road. “It’s not important now.” He drew a deep breath. “Last of all are three more sisters. Mary and Martha are twins. They married and moved west with their husbands. We seldom hear from them, but last I’d heard, they each had a couple of children. Then there’s Abigail. She’s twenty-eight. She’s married and lives back East with her husband.
She has three children.”
“That’s an amazing brood,” Deborah said, smiling. “I can’t imagine how noisy your house must have been. Did you have a really large home when you were growing up?”
He shook his head and his gaze took on a faraway look. “No. We didn’t have much money. The house was quite small until we moved to Kansas City. It was a little larger then because my father finally got steady work with the railroad. I remember that move well because we finally had enough bedrooms that the girls and boys could be separated. The more children came along, the more crowded it got. But about the time we found it unbearable, some of us started leaving home.”
Deborah tried to imagine the little house and all its children. Would Christopher expect her to have as large a family, should they marry? Never one to keep her thoughts to herself, Deborah posed the question. “And do you want a large family?”
He gave her a wicked grin that left her rather breathless. “Why, Miss Vandermark, what a forward question.”
She shrugged and hid her discomfort. “You know I speak my mind.”
“Indeed, I do.” He shifted in his seat; it was his turn to look uncomfortable. “I suppose I’ve never really thought the number mattered, so long as the father and mother loved each other and took good care of their offspring.”
She nodded, still unable to look at him. “Sounds reasonable and wise.”
“What of you? Have you given thoughts to such matters?”
Deborah shook her head. “No, not really. I always figured I’d be taking care of my mother and father and hadn’t considered a family of my own. You have to remember, for most of my life, I thought that was my purpose.”
“And now?”
“I have to admit, I’m still rather confused about that . . . in fact, I’m confused about a lot of things.” She finally lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. “Even though you’ve said nothing, I know there are a great many people in this area who aren’t fond of my getting involved with medicine. Sometimes . . . sometimes I think I should forget about it.”
“Is that what you want?” His voice was soft and gentle.
“No. At least not yet. The truth is, I still remain confused about where God wants me and how He plans to use me.”
Christopher looked at her oddly. “And does that extend to your relationship with me?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I enjoy my time with you.” Her breath caught and she bit her lower lip hard to keep from saying more. Christopher seemed to realize her feelings and moved the conversation away from the topic.
“As I mentioned, I have some medical journals you may take back with you. The Boston Medical and Surgical Journal has several very interesting articles. You are, of course, familiar with the Gemrig bone forceps. One of the articles details information about the new Helmond bone forceps. I’m considering ordering a set, if they aren’t too expensive.”
“That’s fascinating. I’ll be sure to read the article.”
Despite the conversation’s turn to a comfortable topic, Deborah couldn’t help but think Christopher seemed uneasy – as though he needed to say something else, but was trying to figure out how.
“Oh, there’s also an article about a new medical concern – it seems a mania has overtaken our young people in America.”
She looked at him oddly and found Christopher smiling. “Roller skating,” he said without making her ask.
“Roller skating is a mania? I tried it myself in Philadelphia and found it quite delightful.” Deborah couldn’t help but smile. “Why does the medical world believe this is a mania?”
“They believe it to be a ‘psychological contagium’ and that the vibrating brain cells of the skater have something to do with it all.
You’ll have to read the article.”
“I promise you, I shall.” She started to ask him what people were saying to him about her interest in doctoring, but spied her mother coming from the commissary with G.W. They were heading for the wagon with an armful of goods. “It seems my family is packing to return home. I suppose I should take my leave.”
“Let me retrieve the journals,” he said, getting to his feet. “I wouldn’t want you to miss learning about what you may or may not have done to your brain while roller skating.”
Deborah couldn’t suppress a giggle as she waited for him to bring the journals from the house. She felt as if his uneasiness had passed and he was more like his old self. Her mother started walking toward them as Christopher reappeared with his offering.
She waved, and Deborah stepped down from the porch with the magazines in hand.
“Dr. Clayton, please feel free to join us for supper. I know you probably planned to look in on Sissy later, and we’d love to have you at our table.”
“Oh, do come,” Deborah agreed. “I’ll try to get the articles read by then and we can discuss them.”
He smi
led. “I would find that very . . . um . . . worthwhile.” He turned to her mother. “Might I bring something?”
“Not at all. Lizzie is already baking pies, and by the time I get home, Deborah and I will be able to handle the rest. We’ll see you around five.”
“I’ll be there.”
Deborah hugged the journals to her breast as she and Mother made their way back to the wagon, as if to contain the giddy sensations roiling in her stomach. She’d see Christopher again! She was losing her heart to him in a way she’d not expected, and if she were honest with herself, she was starting to regret their agreement to take their courtship very slowly.
“You look as though you have stars dancing in your head,” her mother said as Deborah settled in the seat beside her.
Deborah smiled. “Sometimes Dr. Clayton has that effect.”
Her mother laughed heartily. “So did your father.”
CHAPTER 5
“I’ve been speaking to Arjan,” Euphanel announced some days later. She’d asked her family to assemble in the living room and fixed each one with a gentle look before continuing. “I’d like to offer Sissy a permanent home with us. There’s no way of knowing whether she’ll make a full recovery or if she’ll be left debilitated. I hope you won’t have any objections to this.”
“Not at all,” G.W. replied.
Rob and Deborah nodded eagerly. “I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Deborah replied. “Sissy deserves the best of care.”
“Dr. Clayton and I spoke about Sissy’s recovery, and he believes she may continue to have difficulties for some time. She doesn’t remember things like she used to and often gets frustrated by that. She’s spent her entire life taking care of others, and now I want to assure her that someone will see to her needs.”
“I think we all feel that way,” Deborah said. “Sissy is like family.”
Euphanel gathered her thoughts and continued. “I think, in keeping with that, I want to expand the house. Arjan and I have discussed some ideas and I want your opinion.”
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