Hope Rekindled

by Tracie Peterson

  “Have you torn up the Vandermark Logging contract yet?” she asked.

  Stuart knew that he had to reclaim control over the conversation. He drew a deep breath. “I have considered it, but given what your father is demanding of me, I cannot.” She frowned and he continued. “We must have logs in order to create lumber. I will let the Vandermarks know that we need to immediately resume deliveries.”

  Jael considered this for a moment, then retook her seat. Instead of looking to Stuart, however, she turned to her father. “Would that be helpful to them—to rebuilding?”

  Stuart wanted to throw something at her. How dare she look to her father for answers? He held his tongue, however. Longstreet was already assuring her that it would be a good arrangement.

  “The Vandermarks will get paid, and we will have immediate product. Stuart has already had some lumber brought in, as well as milling equipment. I’m certain that if we get Zed Perkins back on the job, we can see progress within a matter of weeks.”

  Jael nodded. “And what of the people, Father? They’ve lost everything. They have no food or other necessities.”

  “I have already placed an order for the commissary to be restocked in full. We will give the people company tokens for working to help us clear the debris and rebuild the mill and houses. Women will be hired, as well as youngsters. I’ll have Zed get word out that we need workers.”

  “You take too much upon yourself.” Stuart all but growled out the words.

  “When will you let the Vandermarks know about bringing in the logs?” Jael asked, turning back to Stuart. “Today?”

  Stuart looked at the two people. Was it possible that he now hated this pair more than he did G.W. and Deborah?

  A thought came to mind. Perhaps he could still have his revenge. If things went his way, he might even own Vandermark Logging before it was all done. Of course! Why hadn’t he considered this before?

  “I will go today,” he told them. He searched around the desk and pulled up several pieces of paper. “I will see what we are entitled to and request it all. They will make a small fortune, and I will have the necessary wood to begin rebuilding.”

  Jael smiled. “That sounds wonderful. Come, Father. Let’s go talk to Mr. and Mrs. Perkins.”

  “I thought they’d returned to Lufkin,” her father replied.

  She frowned. “I’d forgotten that. Let’s send them a wire, then. We need to get them back here immediately. They can bring others with them.” She waited for him to get to his feet. Glancing at Stuart, she gave him a curt nod. “Thank you, Stuart. I’m glad you’ve decided to cooperate.”

  “Deborah, you in here?” Arjan called from the cabin door.

  Coming out from the small room they’d made into an examination area, Deborah smiled. “Goodness, you gave me a start. I was just putting away some supplies.”

  Arjan entered the house, cane in one hand and a very pale Jake helped along by the other. Jake held his left arm close to his body. Someone had wrapped his hand and forearm in a bandage, but blood was seeping through.

  “What happened?” she asked. “Bring him in here.”

  Deborah led the way to the examination room. She motioned for her uncle to assist Jake while she lit the two bracketed wall lamps at the head of the table and angled their reflectors to give her maximum light.

  “Christopher isn’t here right now, so I’ll have to take care of you,” she said, looking at the solemn-faced Jake.

  “I’m all right with that. I know you’re good. I’ve seen you work.”

  His face was a pasty white, and Deborah feared he might well faint. “Why don’t you lie down here on the table and tell me what happened.”

  Arjan leaned the cane against the wall, then helped ease Jake into position as best he could. “Saw slipped. He just happened to have his hand and arm in the way.”

  “Hurts like the devil,” Jake said.

  Deborah unwrapped the bandages. Caked blood and dirt would need to be washed away before she could tell exactly how bad it was. “I’ll need to clean it. This won’t be pleasant, but you’ll be glad for it in the long run.”

  “If you don’t need me,” Arjan told her, taking up his cane, “I’ll go let your ma know what’s happened.”

  “That’s fine. Jake will hold still.” She looked at him and smiled. “Won’t you?”

  Arjan laughed, but Jake only gritted his teeth as Deborah began to wash the wound. “I’ll be back shortly to check in on you,” her stepfather told her.

  Taking a good look at the damage, Deborah could see that the wound was far deeper toward the center of the hand. The gash ran along the lower edge of the forearm and right between the line of tendons that connected to his thumb and index finger.

  “I think that if an injury could be called lucky, this would be the one. If you’d been sliced the other way, you probably would never be able to use this hand again.”

  “Sure don’t know why it had to happen.”

  “Who can say? I’m going to have to stitch you up between your finger and thumb, but the rest isn’t so deep. I don’t think this is going to give you too much grief. You’ll have to take it easy for a while, though, and keep it clean so infection won’t set in. I don’t know that you can work.”

  Jake opened his eyes and smiled. “I was going to be quittin’ at the end of the week anyway.”

  “Truly? But why?”

  He grimaced as she examined the wound further. “I sent my folks a wire. I want to join them in California.”

  “That’s wonderful, Jake. I’m so glad you felt you could.”

  “I came to realize something,” he said, fixing his gaze on her face. “I do care about you, but I care just as much about your family. What I was lookin’ for was that sense of belonging. I just figured it meant that I needed to take a wife and that she ought to be you.”

  Deborah was touched by his confession. “Jake, I’m so blessed to hear it. Thank you for telling me.”

  “I miss my folks. We were always close, but the drought and the loss of the ranch changed my father. Changed me, too. I wasn’t kind to him. I was angry and I blamed him for losin’ what had been in the family for some time.” Jake’s expression saddened. “I have a great deal of apologizin’ to do.”

  She reached for her needle. “The important thing is that forgiveness is something we do for ourselves as well as the other person. If you forgive your father, you will feel better in your own soul. If your father forgives you—who knows? It may well set matters aright and find him able to move forward. I’m sure the loss of the ranch was hard on him, as well.”

  “I know it was,” Jake said. “Knew it then, too, and I hate myself for being so heartless.”

  “But hate won’t serve any good purpose. Look what it did in town. Look what it’s done to this country. We won’t ever be without it, but we can do our part to lessen it.”

  “I heard that Arjan talked to the law about the White Hand of God.”

  Deborah nodded. “Not that it will resolve the problems here, to be sure. Some folks will support ugliness as well as beauty. We talked long and hard with Pastor Shattuck, and he said that it will take time to change the hearts of folks who are steeped in such a desperate desire to punish others. I have to have hope that God can do it, though. If not, then I would truly be lost in despair.”

  Jake glanced down at his arm. “So you really gonna stitch me up or just sit there and jaw with me?”

  She laughed. “Believe me, by the time I finish, you’ll be beggin’ me to just talk.”

  He drew a deep breath. “Well, give me something to bite down on. I don’t want no one hearin’ me holler.”

  Deborah glanced across the room for something to give him. She spied a towel and went to fetch it. Fixing it into a tight roll, she handed it to Jake. “This ought to help muffle your protests.”

  He took the towel and brought it to his mouth. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

  It was bad enough being forced to do so
mething he’d never intended to do, but Stuart hated wasting his time even more. After making excuses for several days, he’d finally ridden up to the Vandermark logging camp only to find it deserted. Now it was late afternoon and he was finally reaching home, but he had no answers to give his nagging wife. He’d considered stopping at the Vandermark house on his return, but with the light fading and his mood definitely darkening, as well, he decided against it. If Jael asked him about it, he would simply let her know that he’d try again the next day.

  It was clear they’d moved the camp, but Stuart had no idea where they’d gone to or why. He would ask around and see if anyone could tell him. If that failed, he’d have no choice but to go to the Vandermark house and inquire there. He didn’t want to do that if he could help it. He despised seeing G.W. and Lizzie together. They were happy, in spite of the problems he’d created for them. It didn’t make sense, but Stuart supposed it didn’t have to. It frustrated him, nevertheless.

  When he rode up to his house, Stuart could see that Jael was serving a guest on the front porch. He frowned. Who had come to plague them now? He dismounted and tied the horse off at the post near the front steps.

  Jael came to the rail. “Mr. Jennings from Houston has come to see you,” she said as any dutiful wife might. “Since it was cooler out here on the porch, I thought to serve him some chilled lemonade. Would you care for a glass, also?”

  Stuart shook his head and tried to recall who Jennings was. The name was vaguely familiar. He climbed the steps and extended his hand to the older man. Getting to his feet, the man gave a hint of a bow.

  “Mr. Albright, I’m from your bank in Houston. I have some business to discuss, if you can take the time.”

  He remembered the man then. He was one of the lesser bank officers who kept an eye on the Vandermark accounts for him. Stuart turned to Jael. “Thank you for seeing to our guest in Essie’s absence. I do need to speak with him privately, however.”

  Jael nodded. “Then I will go check on supper.” She smiled at Mr. Jennings. “I hope you’ll find our guest room to your liking. I’ll see to it that you have fresh water in the pitcher. We’ll dine at six-thirty.”

  “Mrs. Albright, you are a delightful hostess. I’m certain that I will sleep like a babe in the arms of his mother,” the man said, bowing lower than he had for Stuart. “And if the aroma of that food is any indication, supper will be a culinary delight.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Jennings. I will allow you to reserve judgment until you’ve sampled the meal.”

  The interaction irritated Stuart, but he said nothing. He waited until Jael had returned to the house before motioning the man back to his seat. Pulling up a chair to sit directly in front of the man, Stuart gave his guest a sober gaze. “So tell me what has caused you to come all this way.”

  The last person G.W. had expected to see that Saturday morning was Stuart Albright. Even so, there the man stood, filling the office doorway with a scowl as dark as the growing clouds outside.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Albright?” Thunder rumbled in the distance, making the moment feel even more ominous to G.W.

  Stuart’s expression changed to one of smug control. “It’s more what I can do for you. I tried to let you know about it yesterday. I made my way out to the logging camp but found it deserted.”

  “Camps move from time to time. You have to go where the trees are,” G.W. replied, hoping he sounded convincing. “Turpentiners finished up in one section, so we wanted to get those trees down before a strong storm came along.” He’d certainly not expected Albright to venture anywhere near the camp, but now that he had, it would be up to G.W. to make it seem irrelevant.

  “And where are you now located?”

  “Well, we have one camp up on the northern edge of our property. There’s another we’ve started just east of here. Why do you ask?”

  G.W. could sense that the man was up to something, but he was still uncertain as to what that was. Albright could not be trusted—that much G.W. knew.

  “I’d enjoy seeing it sometime, especially now.”

  “Especially now?” G.W. questioned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Albright laughed, but it sounded hollow and devoid of any real amusement. “It means that I have come to reinstate our logging contract. My father-in-law has convinced me that we can do better for ourselves by processing our own lumber for the rebuilding of the mill. Of course, that also means we must act fast.”

  G.W. found it hard to believe the man was serious. This couldn’t be boding well with Albright. He meant to force Vandermark Logging out of business. He wouldn’t do anything to benefit them.

  “So when would you like delivery to start?”

  “Immediately,” Stuart replied. “Of course, I realize that may tax you somewhat.”

  “Tax us? I don’t reckon I understand.”

  “Then perhaps I’d better explain,” Stuart said, finally taking a seat in front of G.W.’s desk. “I want what is owed to the Perkinsville Sawmill, the full amount. Of course, I will also be paying you in full, you understand.”

  G.W. did understand. Albright wanted Vandermark Logging to supply them with the quota of logs that they’d agreed to under contract. That would entail thousands and thousands of board feet, but it would bring them a nice tidy sum and put the family business back on its feet.

  “I reckon we can to do that.” G.W. took up a piece of paper. He figured it would come to Albright as a surprise with what he was going to say next. “We can have the first delivery made on Monday. Do you want ’em dumped in the millpond like before or just stacked?”

  “I want them stacked. I want all of them stacked and ready by June twentieth.”

  G.W. wasn’t sure exactly what Albright meant. He looked at the man and shook his head. “I said I could have them on Monday. You want me to wait till the twentieth? That’s two weeks from Monday.”

  “You’re right,” Stuart replied, pressing his fingers together.

  “So you don’t want a delivery on Monday?”

  “I didn’t say that. What I want is what is owed me—in full—in two weeks.”

  It began to dawn on G.W. exactly what Stuart was implying. “You want delivery of all the logs we would have brought into the mill since it burned down? And you want them in two weeks?”

  “Exactly,” Stuart said, his smug smile broadening.

  “That’s impossible,” G.W. said, shaking his head. “We can’t cut that fast.”

  Stuart shrugged. “You should have been cutting all along.”

  “We have been, but we can only stockpile so many logs. You wouldn’t want the quality jeopardized.”

  Stuart didn’t seem to even hear him. “It’s legally owed me, and if you do not comply, then you will be in breach of contract. I will see to it that you are forced to forfeit your land in payment.” Getting to his feet, Stuart headed for the door. “Perhaps if you’d seen fit not to go behind my back and arrange for your logs to go elsewhere, you’d have enough stockpiled to meet my needs.”

  He was gone before G.W. could respond—not that he knew what to say. G.W. thought of going after Albright and telling him they had done nothing illegal, but he figured Albright already knew that. In fact, it was probably the very reason he’d come with the demands he’d just made. He couldn’t punish the Vandermarks for giving away their logs, but he could penalize them by forcing them to meet an impossible deadline.

  G.W. glanced at the clock on the wall. His mother, Arjan, and the children were out checking on the black grapes. Mother always liked to get them picked early, and even though they mostly ripened in July and August, she kept a close vigil. Arjan could get around with a cane but Mother wouldn’t yet let him return to the logging camp, so he busied himself the best he could by helping where she’d allow for it. Lizzie and the twins were out in the garden. His son and daughter would celebrate their first birthday on the sixteenth—just four days prior to Albright’s newly imposed deadline.

  He
rubbed the long healed injury to his thigh and wondered how they could make it all work out. G.W. had never been as good with figures as he would’ve liked to be, but a fella didn’t need a higher education to know that the logs they owed Albright were more than they could hope to cut with the small crew employed by Vandermark Logging.

  “We’re gonna need your help on this one, Lord,” he said, looking to the ceiling. “And we’re gonna need it by the twentieth.”

  Deborah sat beside Christopher and listened as her brother and Arjan laid out their plans for the two weeks to come. She and Christopher had agreed to come and help at the logging camp. Christopher felt that with her there to tend the injured, as well as help with the cooking, he could lend a hand in the actual logging. The idea made Deborah smile. He had no idea what he was in for. Logging was not for the faint of heart, and while her husband had great stamina and strength, he was used to tending patients.

  “We’ve got to get the word out that we’ll take any and all workers,” Arjan said. “I figure with my leg the way it is, I can at least take care of that much.”

  Mother shook her head. “You shouldn’t even be up and around, but like my mama used to say, ‘You can’t harness the wind.’ ”

  Arjan laughed. “Is that your way of declarin’ I’m full of hot air?” He smiled and continued. “I’ll send out a wire, then head up to Lufkin and see if I can round up some men. We’ve got friends all around us, and hopefully they’ll lend a hand.”

  “I’ll help Deborah at the camp,” Lizzie announced. “Mother has already agreed to keep the children here with her.”

  G.W. nodded. “Havin’ you gals there to cook and clean up will be a great help. Those fellas are gonna need hardy helpin’s of food. Jake, you sure you don’t mind stayin’ here to lend Ma a hand?”

  “I don’t mind at all. In fact, I’ll come back to work if Mr. Vandermark will just let me.”

  “No, Son. Havin’ you here will put my mind at ease.”