by Alta Hensley
I bet you wonder why I speak of love so easily when you have grown up seeing anything but between your pa and I. You have seen hate, cruelty and misery. For that I will forever be sorry to you. You should have never had to grow up with that all around you. I tried to shield you from the pain at first, but even my motherly protection could not save you from your father’s demons. And that is what they are—demons.
He wasn’t always this man you know. I fell in love with a man who although could have moments of darkness, had more good than bad. His heart was cracked, but I thought I had the ability to heal him. I thought I could heal the pain that caused him such darkness. I was wrong. The crack only grew, and the darkness overtook whatever kindness I once saw in your pa.
I fell in love with your pa as a young girl. He was a few years older than me and felt he had to protect me from all the bad in the world. We used to sit and fish by the creek for hours and hours talking about our hopes and dreams. He wanted to have a large farm with cows, horses, and rows and rows of wheat for as far as the eye could see. He wanted ten children—which I always argued against. Your pa had a tough life. His ma was mad, and his pa had abandoned them in a shack that barely stood. His two older brothers beat him daily. He almost died one summer because a brother of his took a shovel to his head. Because his ma was just plain insane, she often spoke in what town folk called ‘tongues’ and they accused her of being a witch. I was the only one your pa had to count on. Everyone in his life showed him hate, but I chose to show him love.
I’m not excusing your pa for his violence, only hoping I can explain some of the reason for it. And I want you to know that he changed. I guess there is a part of me that thinks with enough love and patience from you and me… as well as forgiveness, he may change once again. He may someday be the man I once loved. It may not be too late for him to be the father that you deserve. And if that day does not happen in this lifetime, then I am sorry. I am sorry you never got to meet the man that I did.
But I have no regrets. I loved. I lived. I didn’t hide from my feelings and my beliefs. And I did love your pa. I still do. I allowed my heart to go to him freely, and because of that, I got you. You are my one true love, and I would suffer whatever consequences God has in store in order to get the treasure I have in you. Being a mother is the greatest gift and achievement anyone could receive. There is a love for your kin stronger than words can explain. I would die for you. I would give my very last breath just so you can be happy. I love you so very much.
I worry that because you have grown to see such venom, you will never allow your beautiful heart to love. Or that you will feel you deserve the same sort of man as your pa. Or worse yet, that you won’t believe that love can exist. It can, my little Della. It can. There will be a man who will love you for everything that makes you you. There will be a man who can lead, who can protect, who can offer you his entire heart. There will be a man who can give you a child, or children, so you can experience the joy I have had in raising you. He will give you a home.
I don’t know if I will still be alive when you read this letter. I hope so. I hope that I am around when you find the man of your dreams and get married. I hope I can be a grandmother to your children and help guide you in their upbringing. But if I can’t, if I am no longer there for you, please take my words and my advice to heart.
Be a fighter, but know when to ask for help. Stay strong, but understand when being vulnerable is more powerful. Be a woman who can take care of herself, but also maintain the ability to allow a man to help. And love, Della. Truly love and never hold back.
Life is not always easy, as you already know. But I do not want you to grow hard. Stone. Cold. I do not want you to feel like you can’t allow the softness to shine through. Allow the delicate to merge with the rugged. Please, my loving daughter, do not let the shadows of life darken your soul forever. Please.
I write this letter while you sleep, and your soft delicate features fill me with so much pride. I love you, my daughter. I love you so very much. My one true wish is that someday you will feel this same level of love.
Forever loving you,
Your Mother
Anson folded the letter with great care and looked up to meet Della’s tear-filled eyes. She didn’t have to read the letter to know what it said. She had memorized every single word of the letter and could quote it word for word.
“Oh, Della. I…” He stopped and swallowed hard. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“The sad thing,” Della said softly, “is I still hate my pa. Even though she didn’t when she wrote the letter, I hate him so much. She had no idea that he would shoot her dead.”
“True. It seems that she loved him very much and never gave up hope that they could find the love again,” he agreed. “Do you know why he shot her?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. He began hollerin’ over something like always, and she sent me out to the barn like all the other times. She never wanted me to see him beat on her. But this time, I not only heard her cries and screams, I heard the bang of his shot gun. I wonder if she finally had enough and stood up to him. Maybe she told him she would leave. I like to imagine that she left the world that day feeling strong. She stood her ground.”
“No doubt about it. Your ma was strong.”
“When I was without a home in San Francisco eating scraps to survive, I kept reciting her words in my head to keep me going. Do not let the shadows of life darken your soul forever. I chanted those words over and over silently to give me strength.”
Anson reached out and stroked her hair, with such kindness in his eyes. “Did you? Did you allow the shadows to darken you?”
She nodded. “Sometimes. Sometimes all I could see was pitch blackness. But then I met Jewel, Gabriel, Nettie and all the gems. My life changed that day, and the hope my mother had for me returned. I saw a light in all that dark.”
“I’ve never judged The Red Petticoat or any of the gems. Everyone I have met has been nothing but good people. But hearing your story makes me have a whole new respect to those who choose to be a gem. I can see how strong the women must be to have survived and come out the other side. I am surprised you didn’t just allow the shadows to swallow you up. I know grown men who wouldn’t have been able to survive the things you have.”
Della looked down at the letter sadly. “I want to be the woman my ma describes in this letter so badly. I want to be the loved wife, the mother, the happy woman so full of dreams. I want this letter to be me.”
Anson got up from the chair and sat on the edge of the bed. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against his warm frame. “It can be. You are young. There is no reason it can’t happen.”
Della shrugged. “Maybe. I hope so. I want that. But then I look around and realize that I am a gem. What would my mother say if she knew that? She would be so ashamed. She wanted me to be a wife and a mother. She wanted me to be opening that hope chest and that letter in my new home. Instead, I read that letter on the streets of San Francisco.”
“She would be very proud of you. She wanted you to be a fighter. Her words said so. She wanted you to be able to take care of yourself. You have already proven half of that letter is you. The rest can still come.”
She looked up at the doctor hopeful. “Do you truly believe that? Do you think a sickly gem can someday be loved?”
He leaned forward and placed his finger under her chin so she had no choice but to look directly in his eyes. “You will not be sick for long. I will fix you up, this I swear. And you are already loved by many. There are folk downstairs who would die for you. When you were sick with the fever, I hadn’t seen a bigger group of panicked people in my life. They wouldn’t leave your side. So maybe you don’t have your ma… or pa, but you have a family that truly does love you.”
“But marriage? Children? Do you think something like that is possible for a girl like me?”
He nodded and smiled. “Especially for a girl like you, Della. Especially.
”
Chapter Five
“I can’t stand this any longer.” Della chopped the onions, resisting the urge to throw one against the wall on the other side of the room.
Nettie looked over her shoulder as she was seasoning the stew for tonight’s supper. “Well then, move on to the carrots if you hate chopping onions so much. I’ll finish them up when I’m done here.”
Della slammed her palms onto the center island. “I’m not talking about the onions!” When Nettie gave her a warning look, silently telling Della that she better change her tone, Della softened. “I have been on restriction now for five days and the doctor still won’t let me be a gem. He told me three days, and he keeps adding to it every time he comes to check on me. It’s not fair!”
“Child, you best stop with that pouting. Dr. Norwood was just here, and he still hears rumbling in your chest.”
“I will always have rumbling in my chest. That’s never going to go away! Just look at me. I’m the healthiest I have ever been. I don’t have a fever. I’m not coughing. I’m just as healthy as you.”
“He’s the doctor. He will know when you are healthy enough.”
“He’s taking away my living!” Della went back to cutting the onions, taking out her aggression by chopping harder and faster. “Maybe he has something against gems and that’s why he won’t let me be one again.”
Nettie waved her wooden spoon at her before she stirred the stew. “Hush now. Dr. Norwood has done good by The Red Petticoat. He doesn’t have a mean or vindictive bone in his body. And he certainly has done good by you.” She sampled her stew by taking a small sip off the spoon before continuing. “He’s been here every day checking on how you are healing, and he spends more time with you then anyone else he comes and visits. He dotes on you and treats you like the precious gem you are.”
Della continued dicing the onion, refusing to agree with what Nettie had to say, even though she was right. Dr. Norwood had been nothing but a caring, concerned, and loving man. He’d even brought her a new book to read while she recuperated.
“In fact,” Nettie said and turned to face Della, “I think our good doctor might fancy you more than just as his patient.”
Della looked up surprised. “What?” Her heart skipped a beat, and she tried to conceal how happy the thought made her.
“I see the way he looks at you.” Nettie smiled. “And I have seen the way you look at him.”
Heat radiated to her cheeks. “Nettie! That just isn’t true!” Her voice cracked as she said the words.
“Oh, child. I have seen how he brings you little gifts.” Nettie gave an all-knowing look and went to go start working on the biscuits.
“He brought me a book because we both like to read.”
“And what about when he brought you those orange poppies? And then he brought you a bundle of lavender after that.”
“He only did that because I had complained about how I hated staying in my room. He brought them to cheer up my environment is all,” she explained, although even as she said the words, she realized she wasn’t winning this argument. Nettie was right. He had been bringing her something at every visit. And the small gestures had made Della feel really special. And she did wonder if maybe something was forming between the two of them. She certainly never had anyone treat her so well before.
She kept brushing the idea off as foolish, possibly madness brought on by her fever. How could a doctor have feelings for a whore? He was educated, distinguished, worldly. She was anything but. They came from two different worlds, and yet when they were together… there did seem to be something.
“And the apple pie from Mrs. Johnson?” Nettie chuckled while she stirred the batter. “The man had the nerve to bring another woman’s cooking in my kitchen for you.”
“Well… well he was just worried that I had lost too much weight.”
“Say what you will, girl. I can see a spark sizzling between you two.”
“I love you, Nettie. But you are wrong on this one. He’s the doctor, and I’m the patient.”
“Hmmm,” Nettie huffed. “I may be getting older, but I haven’t lost my senses, child. I ain’t no fool.”
Della let out a big sigh and wiped at the tears the onions had caused. She wanted to change the conversation, and actually, she needed a change of scenery. She felt antsy. “Nettie, do you mind if I go for a walk? I haven’t had any fresh air in days, and I feel like the walls are closing in on me.”
Nettie nodded. “Yes, a walk could do you good. Just be back long before that sun sets, or your hide will be on fire. You know Mr. Gabe’s rules.”
“I will. Just a short walk.”
“And take that shawl hanging on the hook. It’s getting chilly out there,” she called over her shoulder as Della was making her way out of the kitchen.
Della grabbed the shawl and rushed outside before anyone could stop her and took a deep, cleansing breath. It felt good that not a single cough threatened to escape her body as she did so. She looked up into the sky and stared at the clouds setting in. Maybe an early summer thunderstorm was brewing. The weather of the Sierras could change in a moment, so she would be sure to pay close attention to the color and shape of the clouds.
As she stepped off the landing, she noticed Dr. Norwood loading a wagon in front of the mercantile. She couldn’t quite make out everything in the wagon, but it was definitely full of supplies. Part of her wanted to rush over and say hello, but then she worried that he would make her turn around and head straight back to her bed. So instead, she studied his moves from afar. She watched the way his muscles flexed under his shirt as he lifted crates or large sacks. She liked the look of concentration on his face as he organized the goods to fit the best they could, freeing up more room. He seemed happy, carefree, and just like any ordinary man going about his daily chores. It was hard to believe this was the man who had been caring for her almost nonstop for the past couple of days.
Where was he going with all of that? He lived above his office in town, and she didn’t see why a single man would need so much stuff. Her thoughts were broken when he finished up and hopped onto the bench at the front of the wagon and snapped the reins, moving the horses forward to whatever mystery destination he was heading toward.
Unable to stand not knowing, Della followed the wagon, keeping a safe distance back so he wouldn’t see her trailing behind. The wagon slowly journeyed further into the woods than Della would ever go herself, but she didn’t want to turn around now. Not when with every step, her curiosity grew even more. Was Dr. Norwood off to save a life? To deliver a baby? To ease an elderly lady’s pain? This man fascinated her, and she had to know more. On and on she walked. Deeper and deeper into the thickness of the trees, with the wagon in the far off distance cresting a hill and then disappearing out of sight. She picked up her pace, worried she might lose him and then this whole journey would be for naught.
Fatigue began to set in, and Della pulled the shawl higher around her neck, trying her best to shield herself against the biting wind. She was grateful now that Nettie had insisted she bring it along. Even in early summer, the evening winds of the Sierras could chill you to the bone. Her shoes crunched against the pine needles as she maneuvered beneath the evergreen trees, heavy boughs hanging low.
Approaching the top of a hill, Della gave a sigh of relief to discover that she could still see Dr. Norwood’s wagon in the distance. She hadn’t lost him like she’d worried. She thought about turning back, since with the cloud cover, it would be an early nightfall, and the air temperature had taken a nosedive in the time it took her to follow Dr. Norwood into the woods. She decided against returning and continued on, picking up her pace so she wouldn’t lose sight of him again.
It wasn’t until she walked around a large pine, that she saw the wagon parked in front of a small cabin nestled in a grove of trees. It sat on a nice spread of land that surprisingly didn’t seem to be utilized for farming or ranching. There was a small garden to the right, but the
re didn’t seem to be any livestock or a barn. It seemed odd to see a cabin so far away from Culpepper that wasn’t self-sufficient. Surely this was too far for someone who made a living in town to travel to daily.
She walked forward, taking care to remain concealed behind the trees. Della couldn’t fight her curiosity to see who was sick inside, and crept closer and closer with each risky step. She was near enough now that she could see Dr. Norwood unloading sacks of flour from the back of the wagon, along with other dry goods from the mercantile. Why would he be bringing this household supplies? It seemed above the call of duty for a doctor, but then again, Dr. Norwood was a caring and generous man.
Della found it even more interesting when he flung the sack of flour over his shoulder and walked to the front door, letting himself in without even knocking or announcing his arrival. He clearly knew these people well. Could they be family? She realized that she didn’t really know anything about the town doctor and had no idea if he had kin nearby.
Moments after entering the house, he came back out to get the rest of the goods. Following behind him was an older woman and a young boy. The woman had long black hair that hung all the way to her lower back. There were gray strands mixed within the ebony, which seemed to match perfectly with her dark skin. The boy was around the age of four, if she were to guess, with the same black hair but slightly lighter skin. It was very clear to Della, that both were Indians. Why was Dr. Norwood giving supplies to savages? And what were savages doing living so close to Culpepper, and in a cabin no less?
Her heart skipped and fear took over. Were there more Indians nearby? Where was the man of the house? She had heard awful stories about things the Indians would do to the white man. Tales of being scalped and still being alive long enough to know that you no longer had the top of your head, staring into the eyes of the Indian as he screamed out his war cry.