Burns entered and suddenly felt rather crowded by the smallness of the place. The room evidently served as kitchen, dining room, and living room for the entire family. There was a large iron stove off to the side, serving both for heat and cooking. On the other side of the room, Burns saw four young people staring at him.
“This is my brother, Jeb,” Gail said quickly. Jeb was a small, thin boy of ten, with the same light hair and blue eyes as his sister. He was sitting on the floor reading a tattered book, but when he looked up and saw the doctor, he scrambled to his feet.
“Are you going to make my ma well?” he whispered. “I’m going to try, son,” Burns said in a kindly fashion. The other young people he saw were of a different heritage, having black hair and black eyes. Must be the stepbrothers and stepsister, he thought. But he had no time to consider them, for a large, hulking man had emerged through the door leading from the living area.
“Wot’s this?” he rumbled. His black hair hung down in his face, and he had a pair of oddly colored eyes, hazel as it were. His manner and large size made him look threatening, but Burns was not a man easily intimidated.
“This is Mr. Lawson?” he asked. “I’m Dr. Burns. Your daughter here tells me your wife is very ill.”
“I ain’t sent for no doctor.” Harry Lawson stood there, a hulking man, blunt featured and loose-lipped. He was weaving from side to side, obviously half-drunk. “Ain’t no money for doctors. Be on your way!”
Burns sensed the tension in the girl, who had gone to stand beside her brother. He faced the big man firmly, saying, “No charge. Let’s see what we can do for her.”
Harry Lawson stood glowering at him, and Burns could tell the man was about to order him out of the house. But when Gail whispered, “It won’t cost anything. Let him see her, please,” he hesitated, then shrugged.
“You won’t get no money for this,” he snapped, then lurched across the room, leaving and slamming the door behind him.
Burns at once moved into the sickroom, where he found a thin woman lying in bed covered by tattered quilts. She stared up at him with feverish eyes, set in a pale and gaunt face. He saw the resemblance to the daughter at once. “I’m Dr. Burns,” he said.
Gail slipped by the doctor and leaned over the frail figure, saying, “Ma, I brought the doctor.”
Martha Summers Lawson turned a pair of faded blue eyes on the doctor, and when she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. “You shouldn’t have done that. We can’t pay.”
“Now don’t ye be worrying about that,” Burns said cheerfully. He came over to the bed and sat down in the chair next to it and began to examine the woman. He saw at once that she was very ill indeed. He also saw that Martha Summers, though now thin and frail from her illness, had once been a very attractive woman. But hard work and the cruel poverty that left none untouched in Five Points had managed to drain most of that former beauty from her. Her hair was still the same honey blond as that of her daughter, and there were traces of beauty in the defined bones of her gaunt face. Burns worked quickly, then straightened up and said, “Well, ye’re going to be all right, Mrs. Lawson. Ye’ll just need some good nursing.”
The woman reached out and took Gail’s hand, smiling faintly. “Gail is better than any nurse you’ve got in your hospital, Dr. Burns,” she said quietly.
“I’ll wager she is that.” Burns nodded and then said, “Ye’ll be needing some medicine.” Sensing the tension his words brought, he said at once, “I’ll take care of that. No charge. Would ye be able to go get it with me, Gail?”
“Oh yes, Doctor,” she said, her large blue eyes elated at the doctor’s word.
“Fine.” Burns gave a few more instructions to the sick woman, then closed his bag and left the room.
Gail turned back to the bed and said, “I’ll be right back, Ma. I’m going with the doctor to get some medicine.”
“Can I go with you, Gail?” the younger boy asked at once.
“Can Jeb come with us?” Gail asked the doctor when she stepped back into the other room.
“Of course. Bring him along. But it’s cold and damp outside.”
“I’ve got me a good coat,” Jeb said. He rose and put on a coat that was designed for a full-size man. His hands were swallowed by the long sleeves, and the coat itself hung down below his knees. Gail went over and buttoned it, then pulled a black cap over his head.
As they made their way down the stairs, Jeb tripped over the long coat. He would have gone sprawling down, but the doctor was quick to reach out and grab him. Burns was touched by the warm grin of thanks the boy beamed back at him.
When the three finally reached the street again, Burns asked, “Would there be a place to buy medicine close by, Gail?”
“Yes, sir. Down on Seventh Street. I’ll show you.”
The wind whistled down the street, numbing Burns’s face. He noticed that the other two seemed inured to the biting cold. A taste of snow hung in the air, and the dull smoke rising from the tenements almost shut out the sky completely. They passed several saloons along the way, and the rank odor of alcohol and cigarette smoke wafted out of the dark interiors. The men’s voices that carried through the constantly swinging doors were loud and raucous, and more than once, the physician felt the eyes of hulking men fall upon him. But he gave no sign that he was aware of the dangers that lurked all along Water Street.
“Here it is, sir.” Gail opened the door, and Burns and the boy entered.
When a man wearing a short white jacket approached, Burns said briskly, “I’m Dr. Burns from Baxter. I need a bit of medicine.” He gave his order to the man, and when it was filled, Burns reached inside his coat and pulled out his money and paid for it. Turning, he handed the small package to Gail and carefully explained when to give the medicine, then said, “Be sure and take good care of your mother.”
“Yes, I will, Dr. Burns—and thank you!”
Burns put his hand on the boy’s head and said, “And you take care of your sister, Jeb. All right?”
“Sure,” Jeb said sturdily.
Burns stepped outside and watched as the young people made their way quickly back down the street. “Let me hear how she is doing in a few days,” he called out.
Gail’s voice came to him over the whistling wind. “Yes, sir. I will.”
****
Chief Nurse Agnes Smith stared across the small table at the young physician, slipping her shoes off her aching feet. The small room was filled with the aromatic smell of tea. David Burns had formed a habit of taking a break with the chief nurse just before leaving in the afternoon. Now, Smith wiggled her toes and sighed. “It’s been a busy day. If I had to see one more patient, I think I’d scream.”
“You’re a good nurse, Agnes,” Burns said. “I never saw better.”
The face of the nurse flushed with pleasure. Unaccustomed to compliments, she took a quick swallow of tea to hide her embarrassment. She glanced across at the young doctor, searching for the telltale signs of fatigue. His constant encouragement and kind words had endeared him to her. In fact, he’d become almost like a son to her. Looking over the cup of tea she held, she muttered, “Well, I don’t think much of doctors as a breed—but I’ll have to say that you’ve come a long way since you came to Baxter.”
Burns smiled at her words and leaned back, enjoying the small respite at the end of a tiring day. The two sat talking quietly, and finally Agnes shook her head dolefully. “Mattie quit this afternoon. Left me without anybody to do the cleaning.”
“There’s plenty looking for work,” Burns said. “She wasn’t too good, anyway.”
“No, she wasn’t. We’ve got to find somebody more dependable.”
Burns nodded in agreement, then took the last swallow of tea. Rising to his feet, he rubbed the back of his neck and said, “I’ll see ye in the morning, Agnes. I need some rest.” He left the room and, pulling on his coat, made his way to the front entrance. He was settling his bowler firmly when he heard a voice calling his name.
“Dr. Burns . . .?”
Turning, Burns was taken off guard at the sight of Gail Summers and her brother, Jeb. He had wondered about the sick woman since his visit, and had thought once or twice about going back, but the constant demands at the hospital had made that all but impossible.
“Well, now, this is fine,” he said, going over to them with a smile. He put his hand on Jeb’s shoulder and looked down at the young boy. “And how is it with yer good mother?” he asked in a kindly fashion.
“She’s doing good, Doctor,” Jeb said stoutly. He looked up with a smile on his thin lips. “That sure was good medicine you gave her.”
“She’s much better now, Dr. Burns,” Gail broke in. There was a breathless quality about her, and her eyes seemed brighter than when she first appeared at the hospital door. She struggled with the words and then stuck out her hand, which held a small package in it. “I’ve brought you this.”
“For me? Why, you shouldn’t have done that!” Burns tore off the brown wrapping paper and found a fine white linen handkerchief folded neatly inside. He was touched by the gift, surmising that the girl had sacrificed to get it for him. He had learned, however, to never refuse a gift. He looked at her now with a broad smile and said, “Why, this is just what I needed! How did you know that?” He fingered the handkerchief and said, “Fine quality, too. Thank you so much.”
The girl’s face lit up with pleasure at his ready acceptance of the small gift. “I hope you like it,” she said shyly.
“Well, I certainly do!” Pulling the handkerchief out, he held it up and looked at it, then he glanced at the pair and said, “Where are you going? You didn’t make this trip just to bring this package to me, did you?”
“No, we’re on our way to the mission.”
“The mission?”
“Yes. The Water Street Mission. We go there every time we can.”
“Why don’t you come with us, Dr. Burns?” said Jeb. “You’d like Awful.”
The boy’s words caused Burns to blink. “I’d like awful what?” he asked.
Jeb laughed at the doctor’s question. “You’d like Awful Gardner. That’s the minister’s name, except he ain’t really a preacher.”
Gail added eagerly, “Awful Gardner runs the mission. That’s not really his name, but that’s what everybody calls him. He was such a bad man and grew up with the name. He went to Sing Sing . . . the prison, you know.”
“Did he really? And now he’s running a mission?” Burns was a devout Christian himself and had read about the mission work going on in the Water Street area. He thought for a moment, then said, “I think I read something in the paper about that mission.” He hesitated, then looked down at the two pale faces waiting for his answer. Suddenly, an idea came to him. “Tell ye what, I might go with ye myself. I haven’t heard any good preaching in quite a while.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Gail beamed.
“Come along. We’ll have to get a bite to eat first. I haven’t had anything since lunch.” He did not miss the light that came into the boy’s face and the girl’s embarrassment at his invitation.
He led them out the door and down the steps to the street. After a few minutes, they reached a restaurant not too far from the hospital. It was a favorite spot, where the doctor often stopped after his long days at the hospital. He found the food well prepared, but he also enjoyed the warmth of the place. They found a table, and when the waiter came, Burns said, “Well, now, we might as well eat hearty. I always like to have a full stomach when I hear a good sermon. What if I order for all of us?”
“Oh yes,” Gail whispered quickly. The two young people sat there until the meal was brought—hot soup, mutton, and potatoes. David Burns did not miss how they wolfed it down. Memories of similar looks from a village high in the mountains of Scotland flashed in his mind. Half starved, he thought to himself. Too bad!—Too bad!
Just when Gail and Jeb had finished their portions of mutton, the waiter reappeared carrying plates with generous slices of apple pie that Burns had ordered. He couldn’t help smiling at the look of surprise that filled their eyes.
Finally, the meal finished, they left and walked along the street until they turned down Water Street. Before long, they came to a simple frame building with white boards in the front, and Gail said, “This is it. Come on. . . .”
Jeb took the doctor’s hand and said, “I’ll get us a seat down front.”
As they stepped inside, Burns’s eyes swept the interior of the simple room. It was large and rectangular with rough benches, and at the front stood a small, single table with a pitcher of water on it. A tall, middle-aged man with black hair and a thin face approached them at once. “Well, now, you’ve brought a visitor, have you, Gail and Jeb?”
“Yes, sir. This is Dr. Burns,” Gail said quickly. “He’s the one that made my ma well.”
“No, I didna do it. The good Lord made your mother well.” Burns smiled and took the outstretched hand of Awful Gardner and instantly liked what he saw. Gardner was a thin-faced individual with a rich Irish accent and an honest, able look about him. “I’ve come down to hear the Gospel. I’ve been to several churches in the city, but they’re a little thin on substance.”
Gardner grinned broadly. “Well, sir, you’ll hear nothing here but the blood of Jesus for sinners! That’s all we are, sir, just lost sinners. The service is about ready to start. Won’t you take a seat?”
Jeb grabbed Burns’s arm and half dragged him to the front of the room. As Burns sat with the two young people, he looked around, noting that the entire congregation was altogether of the rougher sort. Men and a few women, all of them shabbily dressed, filled the benches.
Awful took his place at the front and welcomed those who had gathered, then went right into the service. It was a spirited meeting, at least from Awful Gardner’s standpoint. He stood up and began to sing, and Burns was able to join in. Some of the songs were the same ones Burns had learned as a boy in his native Scotland. The service was going smoothly enough until a huge man with a red shirt on the bench across from Burns began to shout. They’d just started singing “Rock of Ages,” when the man, obviously drunk, began to sing the words of an obscene saloon song.
At once, Awful Gardner put down his hymnbook, walked over to the man, and said firmly, “You must leave or I’ll put you out, Jackson.”
“What’s the matter with you?” Jackson shouted. “Get out of here or I’ll smash your face.”
Awful Gardner reached out and caught Jackson by the collar. The drunk reached back and locked his hands around the back of the bench. “Go ahead, old feller,” he grinned.
Gardner got a tighter grip on Jackson’s shirt and surged backward. By this time, everyone else had jumped off the bench. Jackson was lifted to his feet and the bench with him. The congregation continued to sing “Rock of Ages,” but all eyes were on the fight. Gardner dragged Jackson and the bench into the aisle. The bench hit the ceiling and Jackson’s grip was broken. The drunk tried to put up a fight, but Awful Gardner grabbed him around the neck and hauled him down the aisle. Wildly, the man grabbed at whatever he could—benches, even heads of those foolish enough to stay in the way. There was a final lunge near the door. They both slammed into it, and as it swung open, Gardner gave the man a hard push out into the street, then slammed the door. His face was somewhat flushed, but despite the interruption he seemed unperturbed. Walking back up the aisle, he picked up his hymnbook and joined the others, singing, “Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee.”
After the song service Gardner gave a simple but clear sermon. When it was over Burns came forward to shake his hand. “That was a good sermon, sir. I’ll be looking forward to hearing more of the same. Sorry you had a bit of trouble there with that fellow drinking.”
“Don’t mind the poor fellow, Doctor. He’s been taking a little too much, but the Lord Jesus will win out.”
“I’d like to hear a wee bit more about yer work here. Maybe I
can help in some way.”
“Would you, now! Well, that’d be right fine,” Gardner said enthusiastically. “Come along. You can meet some of my helpers. Here, Miss Simms, you just take charge of these two young ones while I show the doctor around. . ..”
It was an interesting half hour for Burns. He had done mission work in Scotland and felt a warm surge of approval for Awful Gardner, who had chosen to hold up the banner of the cross in the worst part of New York City.
Gardner finally began to talk about the people. “They’re the roughs of the city, but I was one of them. Just a drunk I was, chiefest of sinners! I even did time in Sing Sing.”
Burns listened attentively, then said, “I feel sorry for the children of the area. You have to get their parents saved before they can have a decent chance at life.”
“That’s right,” Gardner nodded, then he grew solemn. “That young girl and her brother—the Summers children—they’ve got a hard way to go.” Awful Gardner shook his head sadly. “Did Gail tell you about losing her job?”
“Why, no. She didn’t say a word.”
“Ah, that’s the way of it. She keeps her troubles to herself.” Gardner shook his head regretfully. “She’s worried about it, though. That brute of a stepfather of hers, Harry Lawson, he’ll beat her. He’s done it before.”
Burns became profoundly disturbed at Gardner’s words about Harry Lawson. He ran his hand into his pocket, took two or three quick steps toward the window, stared out into the darkness, then turned back. “Is there nothing to be done? She’s a fine girl.”
“Well, I’ll ask about. There’s not much work in the winter though. Even some of the factories have closed down.” He shook his head dolefully. “If she doesn’t find work, I don’t know what’ll become of them. Her father drinks up all that he makes, and the meager earnings Gail brings home puts food on the table.”
The Rough Rider Page 2