by Nan Ryan
“Darling, I know.” Blake pulled his wife into his arms. Gently he stroked her back and whispered soothingly, “Suzette will be fine, Lydia. Don’t cry anymore. She’s very young and very beautiful; life is all ahead of her. She’ll be all right.”
Clinging to him, Lydia pressed her cheek to his bare shoulder and nodded. “I know, I…it’s just I want her to be happy all the time. I want her to know a love like ours, to have—”
“Shh,” he breathed against her temple. “Suzette is a vibrant young woman, Lydia. She’s had a tragic loss, but she will overcome it and be triumphant. She’s warm and loving and, I assure you, in time she will fall in love and make some man an excellent wife. After all, she’s our daughter, isn’t she?” He smoothed the dark curtain of her hair back from her damp face and looked at her.
“Oh, Blake.” She looped her arms around his neck. “You always know how to make me feel better. What would I ever do without you, my darling?” She hugged him tightly and kissed his ear.
His arms around her, Blake held her close, fighting the fear he must keep hidden from her. “You would survive, my love.”
“Never!” she declared passionately and buried her face in his neck.
It was a sweltering day near the first of September when Suzette, flanked by Anna Norris and Anna’s father, stood waving good-bye as the Butterfield stagecoach pulled away from the wooden sidewalk on the Jacksboro town square. Blake Foxworth had kept his promise to Suzette. He was going to see a physician in Fort Worth, and Lydia had agreed to go along for the week in the city. She knew nothing of her husband’s plan to see a doctor. He’d told her only that he wanted to attend the physicians’ convention and he thought she’d enjoy accompanying him.
Suzette, watching the clattering stage pull out of sight, knew her father’s intentions. Beside her, Anna, her dark hair lying limp on her neck, complained, “They’re gone. Let’s get home. I want something cold to drink. I don’t remember ever being so hot in my life!”
But Suzette was mesmerized by the slowly settling spirals of dust left by the departing coach. When Anna touched her arm, she jumped. Noting Anna’s flushed, hot face, Suzette wondered why she herself had gooseflesh on her arms and why her hands suddenly felt so cold. And she wondered why she felt the need to run after the stage. Shuddering, she turned and said, “It is miserable here in the sun. Let’s go.”
It was still terribly hot two days later when Blake Foxworth climbed the stairs to the second-story office of young Dr. Perry C. Woods at the corner of Tenth and Commerce in Fort Worth. Dr. Woods, not yet twenty-five, a slim, nice-looking man with lively green eyes and an engaging smile, shook hands with the older doctor and invited him into the clinic. Dr. Woods, already noted throughout the west for his brilliance and candor, gave his patient the most extensive examination he had ever endured.
Flat on his back on a long, draped table, perspiring though he wore only his underwear, Blake Foxworth studied the intense features of the preoccupied young man as he poked and pried. “Dr. Woods, are you about finished? I’m to take my wife to lunch, and it’s getting close to the noon hour.”
Five minutes passed with no reply from the young doctor standing over him. Finally, Woods, his face somber, said evenly, “Sit up, Dr. Foxworth, I’m all through.” The young doctor went to a basin to scrub his hands. From over his shoulder, he said, “Get dressed and come into my office. We’ll talk a bit.” With that he toweled his hands dry and left the room.
When Blake, dressed and smiling, took a chair across from the young doctor, he saw his mortality in the green eyes fastened on him. “Dr. Foxworth, I’ll not waste precious time, yours or mine. I’m terribly sorry, there’s nothing I can do for you. Your fears are well founded. Apparently, the wounds you suffered in the War Between the States have caused permanent damage. You have a tumor on the brain, most likely caused by minute pieces of shrapnel lodged there. I wish I could tell you that we can operate and correct the problem. We can’t. My guess is there is more than one piece of metal, perhaps several. It’s much too late, Doctor. The tumor has been growing steadily and its location makes an operation impossible.” Woods leaned back in his chair and studied the older man. “I’m sorry, Dr. Foxworth, truly sorry.”
“Dr. Woods, it doesn’t come as a great shock. For some time now I’ve suspected as much.” He looked at the other man and smiled weakly. “Looks like the Yankees got me after all.”
Dr. Woods said, “I’m from Boston, Dr. Foxworth. I’ve been in Forth Worth for only a couple of years. I don’t suppose I could persuade you and your wife to come to the home of a Yankee for dinner.”
Rising, Blake put out his hand. “We’d be delighted to dine in your home.” They shook hands and walked to the office door. Shaking his head, Blake mused, “You know, Dr. Woods, I must find a doctor to take over my practice. Will you help me?”
“I know several young doctors who would jump at the opportunity, Dr. Foxworth. In fact, I might be interested myself.”
“You? Why, Dr. Woods, you’ve a thriving practice here. Besides, are you sure your wife would want to move from the city?”
“I haven’t a wife, Doctor. Are there any pretty girls in Jacksboro?”
“Well, it so happens I have a beautiful daughter, but I guess she’d be a little young for you. She’s only sixteen.”
Woods smiled. “I’m not yet twenty-five, Doctor. Is your lovely daughter in Forth Worth with you?”
Blake shook his head. “Afraid not. Truth is, Suzette’s brokenhearted over the loss of her beau. She was planning to marry a young cowhand, but the lad was murdered by the Kiowa Indians last spring.”
“I recall reading about the tragedy. Sorry to hear it touched your family so closely.” Pausing, Woods looked up at Blake. “And I’m very sorry I had to give you such bad news today.”
“How long, Doctor?”
“A year at the most, though I’m afraid…” He shrugged.
“I see. Don’t speak of this in front of my wife, Doctor. She doesn’t know.”
“Sir, I’ll say nothing, but you should prepare her, don’t you think?”
“When the time is right, I’ll tell her. Now, good day. Dr. Woods. I’ve taken up too much of your time.”
“Nonsense, Doctor. Shall we set dinner for tomorrow evening at eight o’clock?”
“That would be very nice.”
“Good. I’ll call at your hotel at half-past seven.”
When autumn winds began to whip the barren prairie, Blake Foxworth knew it would be the last time he went down to the creek bed with his daughter to pick up pecans from under the tall old trees that spilled their bounty onto the dying undergrowth. Suzette didn’t see the look of sadness in her father’s eyes when he surveyed the sprawling hills ablaze with fall’s colors. The water oak by the back gate had turned a glorious shade of purple, as it did each year, its brilliance dueling with the oranges and yellows surrounding it. The air was crisp, clear, and invigorating. It was one of those rare, beautiful days in North Texas that made one glad to be alive. Indian summer.
“Look, Daddy!” Suzette shouted, running ahead of him. “There’s more pecans this year than ever before. Mother will have us shelling them from now till Christmas!”
Christmas came with amazing speed that year. Blake sat in his favorite chair in the living room. A crackling fire burned in the grate, its flames lighting the lovely features of the two women seated on the floor near its warmth. Suzette and Lydia Foxworth, attired in their warm winter robes and slippers, their hair brushed and gleaming about their shoulders, giggled as they wrapped Christmas gifts. Blake, holding in his hand a steaming cup of coffee laced with brandy, watched affectionately as his two women decorated their Christmas packages with hair ribbon, colorful yam, and sprigs of cedar sprinkled with flour. He looked from one pretty face to the other, from his blond daughter with her blue eyes shining and her ivory face glowing to his dark, beautiful wife, her brown eyes flashing, her olive skin flawless. Lydia was laughing at somethi
ng Suzette had said. Unaware of her husband’s intense perusal, she looked as young as their daughter and as vulnerable. His chest ached dully at the thought of leaving her. He’d taken care of the lovely Lydia since she was fifteen years old. He’d decided soon after they met that she would belong to him and he’d told her as much. Tossing her long, dark curls, she had smiled saucily and retorted, “Then you’d best come around often. There are other young men in New Orleans who want to call on me.”
“I shall be here every night,” he told her. “If you weren’t so young, I’d marry you now. We’ll have to wait, but no other man will get near you.”
He’d kept his word; he spent each evening with the beautiful young girl until he thought he would surely be consumed with his passion for her. As soon as she turned seventeen, he made her his wife and was overjoyed that he was the only man who had ever so much as kissed the dark beauty. She looked now as she did on that first night…beautiful and desirable. And young. So young he didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth about his condition. He’d tell her soon, but not now, not at Christmas. He’d tell her in the spring. Surely he had that much time.
The spring of 1872 was breathtakingly lovely. Mother Nature outdid herself, as though trying to give Dr. Foxworth one last, glorious glimpse of her splendor before he departed. While honeysuckle climbed the window of his bedroom, filling the chamber with its sweet fragrance, Blake stood at the mirror, the bottom half of his lean face lathered with shaving soap. Across the room, his wife purred and stretched, smiling wickedly. Her ardent husband had made love to her in the sweet, still April morning and she lay watching him shave, content and lazy.
“Blake”—she smiled and smoothed the bedcovers—“it’s still early. Dr. Woods won’t be here for hours yet. Why not come back to bed and sleep a while longer.”
Grinning at her in the mirror, he declined. “Darling, I can think of nothing I’d like better, but I promised Suzette I’d go for an early morning ride with her. She’ll be knocking on the door any—”
“Hello in there! You planning to sleep all day?” Suzette’s voice came through the closed bedroom door. “Daddy, if you’re not in the kitchen in fifteen minutes, I’m going without you.”
Lydia Foxworth laughed. “Blake, don’t you think Suzette is getting more like her old self every day? Why, it wouldn’t surprise me to hear her whistling soon.”
Toweling his freshly shaven face, Blake Foxworth hoped his wife was right.
Suzette spurred her mount and bolted across the rolling plains, thick rich carpets of green grass growing so rapidly that one could almost see it shoot up. Blake Foxworth trailed her, feeling somehow younger and more vital than he had in years. Savoring the feel of fine horseflesh beneath him, Blake gave the creature his head and the big bay galloped with surefooted speed and determination.
Miles were eaten up in minutes, and when the doctor saw Suzette pull up abruptly on her reins, he slowed his gelding. Suzette dismounted, dropping her reins to trail on the ground. Puzzled, Blake swung down and went to her. She walked away and he fell into step beside her. Sunflowers slapped their legs, and in the distance a robin’s sweet song filled the morning air. Both were silent for a time. Then suddenly Suzette stopped.
“What is it, honey?”
When she raised her head to look at him, he saw the tears in her big blue eyes. “Daddy, why is Dr. Woods coming to Jacksboro today?”
“Well, darling, he’s going to be my partner, you know that.”
“So you’ve told me. Why do you want a partner?”
“Suzette, you’re the one who suggested it. Remember, you said—”
“Daddy,” she said sadly, and raised a hand to his arm. “Don’t.”
His hand covered hers and he swallowed. “You’re too wise for your own good, dear. Walk with me and we’ll talk about it.”
Her father explained that the doctor had confirmed what he’d suspected for a long time. Biting her lip, Suzette listened to her father’s calm voice.
“Daddy.” She stopped walking abruptly and threw her arms about his neck. “I won’t let you go. I can’t.”
“Sweetheart”—he embraced her gently—“I’m depending on you to be strong. Your mother will need you.”
Her head buried in his shoulder, she sobbed and said, “No! I can’t! I can’t! We’ll find another doctor, we’ll borrow some money from Austin Brand and go back east. They have doctors performing miracles in those fine hospitals. We’ll…”
“Listen to me, Suzette.” He held her from him and looked down at her. “Nothing can be done. Dr. Woods is an eastern doctor; he’s been in Forth Worth for only two years. We must face what can’t be changed.” He raised a hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Now, promise me you’ll be my big girl and look after your mother when the time comes. I know it isn’t fair to ask this of you, but in some ways you are stronger than your mother.” He smiled and confided, “I’ve always prided myself that you’re a lot like me. You and I can take what life hands us. Some people cannot. When young Luke was killed, you pressed on, and you’ll continue to do so. I’m very proud of you, young lady. Now, give me a smile and tell me that you’ll help to keep this from your mother.”
Suzette gulped for air but nodded. When she could speak, she said bravely, “I’ll take care of mother when you’re gone, Daddy.”
“Thank you, darling. Let’s get back. It’s time for us both to go into town.”
When young Dr. Woods came to dinner that night at the Foxworth home, Blake hoped to see some electricity between the intelligent doctor and Suzette, but there was none. The two young people liked each other immediately, but that was as far as it went. After supper, Lydia obligingly asked her husband if he would dry the dishes for her. He knew what she was doing and agreed hastily. Although Suzette invited Dr. Woods onto the porch for his after-dinner drink, and the doctor quickly accepted, there was no magic between them. Snatches of their conversation drifted into the kitchen, and it consisted mostly of medicine, horses, and books.
“I was hoping Suzette and the young doctor might…” Lydia’s voice trailed off and she sighed.
Smiling, Blake carefully dried a plate. “Me too. Do you think perhaps in time?”
“No, I don’t think so.” His wife smiled up at him and handed him another slippery dish. “It’s a shame. There are so few eligible young men in Jacksboro. Suzette may not be interested, but the rest of the girls in town will be after Dr. Woods. He’s nice-looking and so likable.”
A week later Blake and Lydia threw a small party to introduce the new doctor to their friends. It was a warm, lovely evening, and Lydia and Suzette set up a long picnic table in back of the house beneath the tall cottonwoods by the creek. Austin and Beth Brand and their daughter, Jenny, were the first arrivals. Austin carried a bottle of fine brandy in one hand for Dr. Foxworth, a big box of assorted chocolates for Lydia in the other. Soon families from all the surrounding ranches and farms arrived as friends and neighbors eagerly came to enjoy the hospitality of the Foxworths and to meet Dr. Perry Woods.
Suzette, standing beside Perry Woods, saw Anna coming around the house and called to her. “There’s my best friend, Dr. Woods. She’s Anna Norris. I’ll introduce you.”
The doctor didn’t reply, but concentrated on the dark girl approaching. Suzette shrugged and looked at Anna. When she reached them, she said nothing to Suzette but stood directly in front of the doctor and looked at him as though she knew he had been waiting there just for her. Suzette’s gaze flickered back to the doctor. His green eyes were riveted to Anna’s, carefully drinking in her fresh beauty.
“Dr. Perry Woods, may I present my friend, Anna Norris.” Suzette wondered if either of them heard her. “Anna, this is Dr. Perry Woods, and he’s—”
“Anna,” Dr. Woods said in a soft, honeyed voice, and raised his hand to her. Anna shyly placed her hand in his.
“Perry?” she murmured, her lips parted in a smile.
Dr. Woods smiled back and tucked he
r small hand around his arm. They walked away from Suzette, looking into each other’s eyes. Suzette stared after them, then began to smile. The slender doctor was leading the dark-haired Anna down to the creek, away from the crowd.
“Suzette.” Blake stepped up to his daughter. “Where is Perry? We’re about ready to eat.”
“Daddy, I’ve a feeling Dr. Woods is not hungry tonight.”
Suzette was not surprised when, less than a month later, Anna Norris and Perry Woods proudly announced they would be married. Suzette was happy for them; never had she seen two people more in love. Plans were hastily made for the wedding and the young doctor asked Blake to be his best man. Blake Foxworth gladly agreed, but he didn’t live to keep his promise.
The day after Suzette turned seventeen, Blake Foxworth was dead, exactly a year to the day after Luke Barnes was killed by the Indians.
May 20, 1872
We buried my beloved daddy today. I had told him that we would take him back to Louisiana if that was his wish, but he assured me that to him this land is his home. He said he belonged in Texas, just as I do.
I shall try to be very strong, just as I promised, but even as I write, tears blur my vision and my hand shakes. The Bible says God works in mysterious ways and it must surely be so. If ever a better, kinder man lived than my daddy, I’ve yet to meet him. I’m much afraid that my mother will never recover from her loss. He was the sun in her universe and no one can survive long in total darkness.
7
Almost a year had passed since Blake Foxworth had died. Suzette had squared her shoulders and buried herself in her newspaper work, grateful she had duties to perform, deadlines to meet, and a friend as kind and helpful as Austin Brand.