by Al Lacy
Rip mounted his horse and rode toward the wagon train. John placed the body over Ebony’s back, then he and Breanna headed toward the village.
Rip was met by a large number of people when he arrived at the wagon train. While he washed his hands, he told them the man beside the trail had died of typhus, and that John and Breanna were taking the body to Sierra Springs.
The word typhus struck fear in the hearts of the travelers. Carolyne Fulford, whose father was a medical doctor, told the people that typhus was highly contagious and usually fatal, but she knew little else about it. They would all have to wait till Breanna came back to learn the details.
The people gathered at the front of the train, watching for John and Breanna. A full hour after Rip had returned, they saw the couple riding toward them. Moments later, John and Breanna dismounted, and Breanna called for kerosene and lye soap. As she and John washed, she said to the wagon master, “Nearly half the village has been affected. Ninety-two have died, including Wayne Zeller, and just over a hundred are ill.” Breanna paused, then said, “I’m going to have to ask you to delay our moving on until the day after tomorrow. I need time to help the villagers stop the typhus before it kills them all.”
Rip knew it was possible to run into severe weather high in the Sierras the first week of October, but he also had compassion for the people of Sierra Springs. He would have to chance it. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll make camp about a quarter-mile outside the village and pull out at sunup day after tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Breanna said, then she looked on the circle of faces and continued, “John and I need to eat something, then we’re going back to the village. No telling how long till we can return to the wagons. I want to explain why all of you must stay away from there. Typhus is highly contagious, and it is a deadly killer.”
Carolyne left Rip’s side and moved close to Breanna. “I want to go with you if you think I can be of help.”
“I’m sure you can be. I’ll take you up on your offer.”
As John and Breanna picked up towels to dry their hands, Carolyne asked, “Isn’t typhus related to typhoid fever?”
“Well,” Breanna said, “the two diseases resemble each other in that the victim runs a high fever and usually dies. Typhus, however, causes an eruption of red spots on the body, and often causes mental disorder in addition to high fever, chills, severe headaches, and loss of appetite. It’s spread by lice, fleas, bedbugs, and rats. Humans are commonly infected when the little creatures go from one person’s body to another. That’s why it’s so important for those of us who touch an infected person to wash our hands thoroughly. Typhoid comes from a totally different source. It’s caused by the typhoid bacillus Salmonella typhosa, and is acquired through contaminated food and drink.”
“What will we be able to do for those already infected?” Carolyne asked.
“I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do for them. Some of the stronger ones may survive, but most of them will die. I’m sure the day will come when medical science will come up with a cure, but the only thing we can do now is stop the spread of the disease.”
“And how do you do that?” asked a young mother of four.
“Well, I found that the people in Sierra Springs, like most everyone else, think that if they isolate the infected ones, placing them in rooms with doors closed and windows shut, they’ll stop the spread of the disease. It works just the opposite. The best thing to do is open all the windows and doors. Fresh air is the key to cleaning out the houses—that and good, old-fashioned washing, scrubbing, and common-sense hygiene.”
“You said something too about smoke,” John reminded her.
“Oh, yes. In Europe, they now burn fires in the towns when there’s an epidemic. Some French doctors think smoke purifies the air. I’m going to suggest this to the people in Sierra Springs, also. I don’t know if the French doctors are right or not, but it’s worth a try. I’m also going to see that they burn all clothing, blankets, sheets, and the like that have been infected.”
“Breanna, you all be careful,” an older woman said. “Please. We don’t want the three of you getting typhus.”
“We’ll be very careful,” Breanna told her. “Other than Wayne Zeller’s body, John and I touched nothing when we were in the village. We’ll take every precaution.”
Under Breanna’s instructions, some of the women made special aprons and crude masks of heavy cloth for John, Breanna, and Carolyne. The three ate a good meal, not knowing when they would eat their next one. Carolyne rode Rip’s horse, and Breanna rode Ebony with John as they headed toward Sierra Springs. The wagon train moved to the designated spot a short distance from the village and set up camp.
The trio entered Sierra Springs and went to work. John and Carolyne followed Breanna’s instructions and did what they could to make the typhus victims more comfortable. Doors and windows were opened in infected houses, fires were built and maintained all over the village, and those not infected began washing, scrubbing, and cleaning with vigor.
The work went on all night long. By morning, Sierra Springs was scrubbed clean. Three more people had died during the night and had to be buried. John Stranger offered to hold services for them, and the grateful survivors gladly accepted. Preaching from the Bible he carried in his saddlebags, John gave a clear gospel message and invited those who wanted to be saved to receive Christ. Several responded. Breanna and Carolyne found Bibles in some of the homes, and along with John, visited all the victims who were lucid. Many of those also received Christ.
John, Breanna, and Carolyne worked till almost noon, then made ready to go to the camp for some much needed rest. A group of those who were not infected gathered at the edge of the town to thank them and bid them good-bye. One elderly gentleman, whom Breanna had led to the Lord, approached her with tears in his eyes and said, “You’ve been sent to us by God, Miss Breanna. You’re an angel … an angel of mercy.”
10
AT THE SAN MATEO COUNTY JAIL, Sheriff Max Donner followed Deputy Myron Hall into the cell block an hour after sunrise. Hall was carrying a tray bearing a hot breakfast for their only prisoner.
Jerrod Harper was sitting on his cot when they appeared and rose to his feet, rubbing the back of his head. The fire that had been in his eyes the day before was gone. He was calm and showed no tendency to give the lawmen trouble.
When Hall saw the serene look on Jerrod’s face, he said, “Got some fried taters, scrambled eggs with sausage, and hot coffee for you, Jerrod. Y’hungry?”
Donner put his key into the cell door, turned it, and pulled the door open.
“Yeah. A little,” Jerrod said.
Hall set the tray on the cell’s small table and backed out, saying, “I asked for extra-large portions at the café. Told ’em you’re a good-size feller.”
“Thanks,” Jerrod said as Donner closed and locked the barred door.
Hall noted that Jerrod was gingerly rubbing the back of his head and said, “I hated to clobber you so hard, but you didn’t give me any choice.”
Tears surfaced in Jerrod’s hazel eyes. His lower lip quivered as he said in a broken voice, “I’m sorry for how I acted, gentlemen. The … other man inside me got control. I hope you’ll find it in your hearts to forgive me.”
Donner stepped close to the bars. “We both understand a little about your problem, Jerrod. Forgivin’ you is no problem. But this situation goes deeper than that. When the ‘other man’ takes control, you’re dangerous. You’ve got to get some professional help. Your wife is gonna see Dr. Matthew Carroll this mornin’.”
Jerrod’s face stiffened.
“Now, just get a grip on yourself,” Donner said, raising a hand palm-forward. “You’re either gonna place yourself under Dr. Carroll’s care, or I’m gonna throw this key away.”
“You can’t keep me here,” Jerrod said, wiping tears. “I’ve got a farm to work … a family to support. You gotta let me out!”
“So you can pound on your wife and c
hildren when the ‘other man’ takes over? Not on your life. When your wife gets here, we’ll see what Dr. Carroll had to say, and go from there.”
“But my farm,” Jerrod cried. “Dottie and the kids need me, Sheriff. It’s my duty to provide for them.”
“And it’s my job to protect them, Jerrod, and I’m goin’ to do my job. Eat your breakfast. It’s gettin’ cold.”
After a long night with little sleep, Dottie Harper left James and Molly Kate with Will and Maudie Reeves and drove the family wagon into San Francisco. She was greeted warmly by Flora Downing, Dr. Matthew Carroll’s receptionist, and told there were four patients ahead of her, but that the doctor would see her as soon as possible.
An hour and a half later, Flora ushered Dottie into the doctor’s office. Dottie was a bit surprised. She had expected a much older man, but the man who stood behind the desk smiling warmly at her was no more than four or five years older than she.
“Good morning, Mrs. Harper,” Dr. Carroll said.
“Good morning, Doctor,” she responded, smiling in return. He had a certain warmth about him and a winsome smile. He could help Jerrod, she was sure of it.
“Please sit down,” he said, gesturing toward a chair that stood in front of the desk.
He waited until Dottie was seated, then eased down in his own chair, leaned forward with his elbows on the desk, and said, “Dr. Glenn Olson mentioned you to me, Mrs. Harper, and told me a little about your problem. I want you to know that if your husband will agree to see me, I’ll do everything I can to help him.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Dottie replied. “I … I’d like to ask you something right off, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course I don’t mind. What is it?”
“I’ve been told that you’re a saved man … a born-again Christian. Jerrod and I are Christians, and I need to know if this is true about you.”
“It most certainly is. I put my faith in Jesus Christ some ten years ago. My life has never been the same—praise the Lord—and I rejoice in my salvation.”
Dottie gave a sigh of relief. “It’s reassuring to know my husband will be in the hands of a Christian doctor.”
“I can appreciate why you’d feel that way, Mrs. Harper. Now, I need to hear the whole story on your husband … Jerrod, right?”
“Yes. But before I tell you the story, I have to say, Doctor, that I was expecting a much older man.”
“Oh? Any special reason for that?”
“No. Just an image I made up in my mind, I guess.”
“Psychiatrists do get old eventually,” he laughed, “but like everybody else, we have to grow that way.”
“Well, you’ve certainly done well to be so young and yet be entrusted with the responsibilities of head of staff at the asylum.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your kind words.”
“Your wife must be very proud of you.”
“She was, Mrs. Harper. She died two years ago. Consumption.”
Dottie’s face blanched. “Oh, Doctor, I’m sorry! Please forgive me!”
“It’s all right—you had no way of knowing.”
“Please know that my heart goes out to you, Doctor,” Dottie said. “Do … do you have children?”
“No. Clarissa became ill early in our marriage. Having children just wasn’t possible. I love children. It would’ve been a wonderful thing if we’d been able to have some, but the Lord had other plans for us. I understand you have two children.”
“Yes. James is eight, and Molly Kate is six.”
“Well, I hope I get to meet them. Any other questions before we talk about your husband?”
“No. That’s it.”
“All right. How about starting at the beginning? Tell me Jerrod’s story. Try not to leave out anything significant.”
Dottie told all, beginning with Jerrod’s Civil War duty and ending with the events that led to his arrest. When she finished, Dr. Carroll said, “Mrs. Harper, I wish I could tell you there was a cure for Jerrod’s problem, but the truth is, there isn’t. The problem is only going to get worse with the passing of time.”
“You … you mean there’s nothing you can do for him?”
“To cure him—nothing. But I can help him. I can put him on sedatives that will make his angry episodes less severe. Of course, he’ll have to submit himself to my care in order for me to do this.”
“After what he did yesterday, Doctor, I think he might be willing to do that. You are talking about doing this sedative thing with him living at home. Right?”
“Yes. That is, if he gets out of jail. But let me tell you what else I can do.”
“All right.”
“Jerrod’s problem—as you may know—is called dementia praecox. We have no cure for it, but there’s a good chance I can help Jerrod to a degree with mental therapy. But again, I can’t help him unless he will let me.”
“Mental therapy?” Dottie said, her brow furrowing. “You mean you could do this with Jerrod coming here to the office on a regular basis?”
Carroll shook his head. “No. This therapy can only be done by institutionalizing him.”
Dottie’s heart went cold and her face lost color. “You mean at the asylum?”
“Yes. Dr. Olson said he had mentioned that possibility to you.”
“I guess he did,” she said, putting fingertips to her temples.
Dr. Carroll saw the fear in her eyes. “From what I’ve heard, Mrs. Harper, Jerrod can be very violent.”
“Yes,” she said.
“He’s a large man, I understand.”
“Yes, and very strong. And when this … this thing takes control of him, it’s bad. Really bad. But …”
“But what?”
“I can tell you already, Doctor, Jerrod will never submit to being admitted to the asylum. Never. Are you sure you couldn’t do this therapy in your office? I might be able to talk him into doing that much.”
“A program of sedatives, yes, but not the therapy. He’ll need to be monitored by trained people between my sessions with him.”
“Well, could we try the sedative program, at least?”
“If he’ll come and see me. I can’t do a thing until he and I sit down together.”
“All right. I’m going to see Jerrod right after this, and I’ll talk to him about it.”
“It’s a start.”
“Doctor, can you help me understand something?”
“I’ll try.”
“Jerrod is a Christian. How can this be happening to him? The Bible says the Christian’s body is the temple of the Holy Spirit.”
“That’s right.”
“Well, since He lives in Jerrod, shouldn’t He be able to control Jerrod’s mind?”
“I think probably the best response to—”
Carroll’s words were cut off by a deep rumble; the building began to shake. The floor seemed to undulate, and Dottie’s chair slid sideways.
“Earthquake!” exclaimed the doctor, bounding out of his chair and around the dancing desk.
Dottie was on her feet, wide-eyed. Her heart was racing, pounding so hard she could feel her pulse in her temples. Dr. Carroll wrapped an arm around her and hurried her to the nearest door, which led to a walk-in closet. He flung the door open and held Dottie within the door frame.
It seemed the quake was going to be a long one, then it stopped as suddenly as it had started.
Dottie was trembling in the doctor’s arms, fists clenched at her sides, her face sheet-white. A few seconds passed. Suddenly Matthew Carroll realized he was still holding her. He blushed and let go.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Harper. I didn’t mean anything by holding you like that, I assure you.”
“I know you were only trying to protect me … and I appreciate it,” she said with a smile.
The door to the reception room came open. “You all right, Doctor? Mrs. Harper?” Flora Downing’s features were a sickly gray.
“Yes, Miss Downing. Everything all right out there?”<
br />
“Just some furniture that needs rearranging,” she sighed. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Let me do it,” he said, heading toward the door.
“No, no. It’s no problem to slide a few chairs around. My desk stayed put.”
The doctor first put Dottie’s chair back in place, then shoved the heavy desk where it belonged. He scolded himself while doing so. He had enjoyed holding Dottie, but knew it was wrong to have such feelings toward her. Lord, You know there was nothing impure in my thoughts, but I was wrong to let myself be attracted to her. Please, forgive me.
He sat down behind his desk and cleared his throat. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to these quakes. I know it’s a part of living in San Francisco, but they always unnerve me.”
“We don’t get them quite so strong in the valley,” Dottie said, “but I don’t like them, either. There’s always the possibility for a real devastating one.”
“I try not to think about it,” he said, scratching at an ear. “Well, let’s see. Where were we?”
“I was asking you why the Holy Spirit cannot control this quirk in Jerrod’s mind since He lives in his body.”
“It isn’t that He can’t, Mrs. Harper,” the doctor replied. “God Himself asked Abraham, ‘Is any thing too hard for the Lord?’ So it’s not that He can’t, but sometimes the Lord allows things to come into our lives that we don’t always like or understand. This is where faith comes in. We’re saved by faith, and we walk by faith. We must trust God and believe that He never makes mistakes.”
Dottie nodded slowly, taking it in.
“God allowed Jerrod to suffer a serious mental wound in the Civil War, just as He allowed him to suffer physical wounds. The wound in his mind is as real as the wounds he sustained in his body. We must face the plain and inescapable fact that though the Christian’s body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, our bodies know pain, illness, and defects. Just so, the mind of the Christian can know mental pain, illness, and defects. Our bodies came under God’s curse on this earth when Adam sinned. In God’s higher thoughts, He sees fit to let us suffer, both physically and mentally. Are you following me?”