by Donna Steele
In his opinion he was a married man. Dee was the wife he’d never known he wanted. No television, emails, or texts interrupted them. They were alone, together. And in addition to the talks, the sex kept getting better. He had never realized familiarity could be a good thing.
His teaching gig turned out to be a lot of fun. The kids were engaging and coming up with their own ideas about green energy. The older ones had already begun assisting with converting the engines and the production of biofuel for the neighboring farmers.
When he told them about the task of bringing electricity to town and how he envisioned the project, he had no doubt their minds would take off with ideas.
“I never asked this.” Dusty glanced at Dee. “Do you go to church?”
“Uh, not recently.”
“We, at least I, may have to make an appearance this Sunday. The minister is head of the school board and Pickerson wants them to start looking over my lesson plans.”
“What have you done now?”
“Hey, I behaved myself, mostly. They want to electrify the town. I mentioned burying the lines in conduit. No one had bothered telling the populace their trees were going to be cut down or maimed. Or the dangers when a line snapped.”
“Not a word of caution?” She straightened, staring at him.
“Nope. That would have been the power company’s trivial surprise. I don’t think their rep guy liked me.”
Dee snorted and resumed her place under his arm. “Between the two of us, the time line is probably braiding itself.”
“Could be, but if big energy doesn’t get so profitable that nothing else matters, is it a bad thing? While we’re here changing things anyway, why not shoot for some positives like the cleaner energy, women’s rights—”
“Dusty, I’m on your side. But I can’t help wondering what we’ll see when we get home.”
He fell quiet. Unable to come up with a single theory on how to engineer their return, he had to be honest with himself. At times, he forgot to contemplate the situation completely. With Dee beside him, he didn’t care when he lived.
“I don’t suppose this minister is big on women’s rights.” Dee rubbed at her forehead.
“Don’t think so. Caleb warned me. He didn’t say anything specific, but left me with the impression of a fire and brimstone, Eve-is-the-root-of-all-evil type preacher.”
“Oh, great. I’m going to have to get some current style shoes. I cannot see me heading into church with sneakers on.”
Dusty chuckled. “Sorry about that. ‘Course my suits aren’t any better for low profile. Think Caleb would run us a line of credit for some Sunday clothes?”
Dee sighed and Dusty glanced down at her. “You okay?”
“Yes. Today was a good day. No major traumas, Sybil’s leg is so much better, Sam’s hand is healing, and Viola came over for a lesson.”
“Giving or taking?”
“Both, I guess. She and I checked on our crop of penicillin. It turned the bright blue-green we hoped for, so we’ve moved what we could. It’s now in sterilized flasks. Viola makes a wonderful doctor and has jumped on the idea of sterilization. She took some of the growth home to expand our supply. The hardest part is keeping the temperature steady.”
This wasn’t Dusty’s forte but he listened carefully as she added, “The working women’s group has been a major success so far. And keep that to yourself, because the men in town might not feel the same way.”
He could hear the amusement in her voice.
“Sorry for getting you involved with this school board thing. Maybe if I’d kept my mouth shut at the meeting, but—”
“But you couldn’t and I don’t blame you. Remember, I’m still probably the real reason for any problems you’re facing. That woman doctorin’ thing is a major scandal.”
“Tell me about it.”
Chapter 29
The children surrounded him as Dusty approached the school the next day. “Good morning.” Dusty looked around at the anxious children. “Is everything okay?” he asked.
One young voice piped up. “We were worried about you. We didn’t know if you’d still be our teacher.”
“Why not?” Dusty stopped and scrutinized the children.
Joseph finally spoke. “The meeting last night.”
“About the electricity.” Dusty nodded. “Let’s go in and get settled. We can talk about it if you like.”
Once the students had taken their seats, Dusty leaned against his desk. “What did you hear?”
“You’re against putting in electricity.”
“I see. That’s wrong, and not at all what happened. I think having electricity in this town is a wonderful and progressive idea. What I opposed was putting the lines on poles along the street. I mentioned burying the lines in conduit, uh, in big tubes of concrete, would be safer.”
Dusty briefly detailed the information he had covered in the meeting the night before; accidents, ice, and the sight of maimed trees. He stressed repeatedly the danger of the fallen lines.
“Did you know I also talked about ways to produce clean electricity? Right now they’re planning to burn coal to make the power, which will throw a lot of dirt and pollution into the air. We’d all have to breathe the fumes.”
“You were talking about wind and water,” one of the boys ventured.
Well, someone heard me. “Exactly. Both are free, and don’t get used up. Eventually we’ll run out of easy-to-get coal and oil. We’d even have to buy oil from other countries. That wouldn’t be sustainable.”
“Are you talking about the one-use thing?”
“Yes, exactly. We reuse things until they’re completely worn out. Think what would happen if someone were to invent, say, paper diapers.”
Several of the children giggled at the thought.
Encouraged, Dusty continued, “Once the baby uses them, what would we do? Throw them in the trash or burn them. Seems like a terrible waste. Can you imagine how much trash we’d get, using a diaper just one time?” Dusty made a face and a couple of the kids laughed aloud.
“What if instead, we shake whatever’s in the diaper into a compost pile and wash the thing, then use the diaper again. The same would be true if we had one-use bottles, for instance. Now we wash them out and refill them. The cost of cleaning isn’t that much and there isn’t a pile of perfectly good bottles in the trash heap.”
“Do they do that kind of thing where you come from?”
“Some, yes. There are people working against one-use items. It’s one of the reasons I’m telling you about these things now. When you’re grown up, you’ll already know what a bad idea one-use is, and help keep this place clean.”
Dusty leaned against the desk. “How many of you have heard of Mister Edison?” Hands went up around the room. “Okay, how about Mister Tesla?”
No hands were raised.
“Then we need to talk about Tesla today. He is an inventor like Mister Edison. They have different ideas about the generation of electricity. Edison believes direct current, or DC, is the way to go. Tesla wants us to use alternating current, or AC.”
“Which is best?” A boy in the back asked.
“They both work, but AC—Mister Tesla’s idea—will travel for longer spans and therefore I believe is the best to employ for commercial use.”
Again, hands rose around the room and Dusty answered the barrage of questions from both girls and boys. He sure didn’t remember this kind of enthusiasm from his classroom days.
“As a long-term assignment, I want you to be on the lookout for articles about these two men. They should be working together but since they’re both geniuses, they seem to have a rivalry right now. And I think Edison is playing dirty, which won’t help anyone. There are a few experiments we could try here in class
so I could show you how energy is generated. What I proposed last night at the meeting was employing wind and water to create the power. Have any of you heard of Niagara Falls?”
A flurry of hands responded.
“The falls are a perfect energy generator. The water is going to flow anyway and it does so with a lot of power. The force could turn turbines, generating clean and free electricity. Of course, some company would have to put up the money to manufacture the turbines and run the lines. It means a cost to the consumer but at least they’re not breathing coal dust or black fumes.”
A long discussion ensued and Dusty cut the math lesson in half to accommodate the conversation.
Which included the entire class, boys and girls.
Chapter 30
Dee shifted to get a better view in the standing mirror of her dressing room. The outfit did look good for the current era, even stylish. She wore a light gray dress with matching short jacket. These cinched waists were going to be the death of her—and she still hadn’t given in on the stays.
In her opinion a hat and gloves were too much, but it was the style. Dee sighed as she poked around in Mrs. Tillman’s extensive wardrobe.
She had to chuckle when she glanced at her shoes. Finally caving, she’d bought some “proper” shoes from Caleb. He’d been astonished she had wanted her correct size, rather than something smaller to appear daintier and more feminine. Comfort ranked higher on her scale than that. Besides, these shoes would not turn Dusty on even if she painted them scarlet. Right size or not, they still weren’t comfortable. But they’d do, at least for this foray into the Reverend Grant’s arena.
She glanced up, startled at the wolf whistle, and narrowed her eyes at Dusty as he stood in the doorway. He appeared more proper himself in one of the suits Caleb had sold him, an outfit much more in keeping with the other men in town. At least Dusty got paid for being the teacher, and had usable currency now.
She, on the other hand, was allowed to live in the house for the foreseeable future and that was about it.
“Ready to go?”
Dee took his hand, somewhat reluctantly. Misogyny was not her favorite trait.
Walking to the church, only a couple of blocks away, members of the community joined them. They were obviously being watched as they made their way through town. Used to the stares by now, Dee held her head high. There were times she wanted to put on some sort of display—hike up her skirts and run wild in the streets—but they were living here now. Who knew for how long? She sighed and returned Dusty’s hand-squeeze. At least he understood.
As they approached the churchyard, Caleb stepped out and greeted them. “Thought I might see you today.”
Dusty rolled his eyes and Caleb chuckled. Millie joined them. “It’s so good to see you, Doctor Stevens.”
“I told you, call me Dee and it’s good to see you too. Is Daphne here?”
Millie nodded and pointed her out in a crowd of young people. “She’s doing very well. I check her fingers for pinkness every morning and she’s able to do those exercises you gave her.”
“Wonderful. I think her hand will be fine.”
Millie beamed at her. “Won’t you sit with us today?”
“Thank you. We’d be delighted.” She did have a few friends in town.
“Doc Stevens!”
Dee scanned the churchyard and spotted Sybil coming toward her. The elderly woman used her cane, though she didn’t lean heavily on it.
“Miss Sybil! I didn’t know you’d be out today.”
“Yes, the walk’s not so far and my leg is doing much better, thanks to you.” She stepped closer confidingly. “And this way Reverend Grant doesn’t come to my house and give me a private sermon.”
Dee bit her lip to keep from laughing, nodding at Sybil’s twinkling eyes.
At some unseen signal, the assembled crowd quieted and began moving to the entry of the church. Dee glanced over at the sign and read the quote for the day.
‘Wives, submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord. Colossians 3:18.’
She blew out a resigned breath. Obviously this would be a long sermon, judging by the way Reverend Grant was already gearing up.
Tall and rough-boned, the man didn’t look at all like the minister Dee had imagined. Not only was he much younger, but he also seemed more like a lumberjack to her. Then again, she sure didn’t look like a doctor to anyone around here, either.
After taking their seats, Dusty slipped her hand into his and held on firmly, a sign of support. Millie obviously noted the affectionate gesture but made no comment, only smiling quietly.
One of the few hymnals available was passed to them and Dee nodded her thanks. Once the singing started, she realized Dusty had a deep, soothing voice, actually quite good. If this church ever formed a choir, he’d no doubt be pegged as one of the first volunteers.
Then Grant rose to take the pulpit. Dee figured if the man ever cracked an actual smile, the movement would split his face open as well. His deep, booming voice held the conviction of the sermon he’d prepared; how women were the sole property of their husbands and the bane of man’s existence, thanks to Eve’s sin.
Dusty’s hand tightened over hers.
After a few minutes, Dee managed to tune the man out. Listening would only raise her blood pressure and do no good. She did wonder idly if his descendants would run for political office in the future. If he ever got any descendants with his attitude.
A disturbance outside caught her ear. The sound drew everyone’s attention and many heads turned toward the door. The scream brought Dee to her feet and moving before she realized.
“Stay in your seat!” Grant bellowed. His words didn’t even slow Dee down, and she sensed Dusty staying right on her heels. She raced out of the church and down the street, cursing the new shoes, and fell to her knees beside a prostrate man in the street. Nearby stood an agitated horse still tethered to a wagon.
Dusty grabbed the reins and began calming the horse, trying to get him and the wagon out of the way, as Dee concentrated on the man, still screaming in pain. His bloody shin revealed a definite compound fracture. Dee grabbed hold of the already torn fabric of his britches and ripped the cloth away from where the bone protruded at an angle through the skin.
“Oh crap.” Dusty’s comment burst forth. He’d dropped down beside her to assist in any way he could, but now hastily turned his face away.
“Take your hands off that man!” Grant’s voice somehow didn’t surprise her. Then it struck her that he had bellowed for her to remain in her seat, not the whole congregation. Everyone had frozen except her. She took a deep breath and moved so the preacher could see the wound. The sight stopped his forward momentum in a heartbeat and a gurgling sound came from him. She could only hope he wouldn’t be sick on her patient.
Instead of asserting her authority, she turned to Grant. “Thank goodness you’re here. We need your help.” Diplomacy, Dee. Honey didn’t only have to be applied to wounds.
That caused him to blink and take a step back in retreat.
“Here, please sit behind him and put your arms around his chest. You can support and hold him still, and give him comfort while we work.” To her surprise the man mutely took the position she requested. In apparent shock, the reverend stared with fascinated horror at the gruesome wound.
“Will he lose his leg?” Grant asked in a low voice.
“Not if the three of us do our parts correctly.” Dee motioned for Dusty to position himself at the man’s feet. “Do you know him?” she asked Grant.
“Yes, this is Jedidiah Lawson. He owns a farm north of town.”
“All right, then.” Dee bent over the prostrate farmer. “Jedidiah? Listen to me. Reverend Grant is holding you. Please take a deep breath, that’s right. Now another, good. Reverend Gra
nt, if you can keep his breathing deep and slow while you talk to him, it would help. Dusty, take hold of his foot, leave the boot on. Hopefully it’ll keep the swelling down for now. On my word, begin pulling his leg slowly to your chest.”
She laid a careful hand on Jedidiah’s arm. “This is going to hurt. You need to hold on to Reverend Grant. Dusty, start,” she murmured, and after a quick shudder, Dusty did as she bade.
Dee ripped off her Sunday gloves to keep lint from the wound site. She’d worry about disinfecting when she could. With Dusty’s steady pull, she began guiding the bone into place.
Though the office would be better for this operation, immediate swelling would impede the process. Without her modern equipment, this was the best way. “That’s right, slow and steady. Reverend Grant, how are you doing?”
“I believe he’s fainted.”
“Good. He’ll be in less pain now. Please keep hold of him. A little bit farther, Dusty . . . Aha!”
The bone had snapped cleanly and she felt the two ends meet. “Keep the tension on the foot, Dusty. I think—yes. There it is.” She grabbed the cloth from the leg of Jedidiah’s trousers and began binding the wound. “I need a sturdy splint so we can move him. Dusty, slowly release his foot. Good, now find me two pieces of board.”
Dusty returned quickly with wood from the wagon along with a stout piece of rope.
“Perfect. Hold the splint here.” She placed the boards on either side of the leg and quickly wrapped the rope around the makeshift bandage. Only then did she look up to see Grant, his face as white as the collar showing around his cassock.
“I believe we did it. We need to take him to the office. He must be moved carefully and gently. Is there some kind of table or something rigid that would be sturdy enough for us to use to move him?”
“I . . . Yes, I’ll be right back.” Grant appeared to glance at her for permission to release the man he held in his arms.