Hearts Aglow (38 page)

“That’s true,” G.W. said, sounding a little more hopeful.

“We can also step up the turpentine production. They’ve been after us for months to give them more trees,” Arjan said. “I think if we double their acreage, we can meet our loan payments and have a little money left for other needs – maybe even a bit of pay for the men.”

“But the best of the summer is over and spring is months away.” G.W. shook his head. “They can do the fall and winter scraping, but I don’t know if it will do us much good.”

“All we can do is try,” Arjan declared. “We can speak to the turpentiners and get their opinion on the matter. Let’s call the boys in and have a meeting here at the house tomorrow. It’ll be Saturday, and we can give those who stay the rest of the day off and reconcile with those who want to go.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Mother said. “Will you go and bring them in?”

Arjan nodded. “I will. That way I can secure the camp before I head back.”

G.W. reached for the ledger. “I’ll see if I can find ways to save us more money.”

Deborah went to his side. “I’ll help you. If we put our heads together, we can come up with something that will help.”

The loggers listened as Arjan detailed the problems at hand. Mother and Sissy had put together a magnificent dinner, and now everyone remained at the table, trying to figure out their futures.

“Look, I know some of you have families, so stayin’ on with us probably isn’t possible. There will be no hard feelings if you have to quit. The rest of you will have a place to sleep and three meals a day. We’ll see to your injuries and keep a detailed record of the pay owed you.

“If possible, we’ll have a little money each week for you. It might only be script, but it will be something. We won’t work to exceed our planned production, either. We’ll just do what’s necessary and nothing more. We’ve been performing at the level designated by Mr. Perkins for when the mill expansion was complete. As G.W. pointed out to me, we can cut production down to what was required for this phase.”

“Mr. Vandermark?”

“Yes, Jake?”

Jake pushed back his chair a bit. “I have what may sound like a strange question, but I hope you’ll hear me out.”

Arjan raised a brow. “All right.”

“Well, I’m just wonderin’ – Vandermark Loggin’ owns a lot of land that’s already been harvested. Now, I know you have young trees growin’ as replacements, but that will be some time – if ever – before they’re ready to cut.”

“Go on,” Arjan encouraged.

“Is there any chance you might consider sellin’ off some of that land for farmin’ and ranchin’? I, for one, wouldn’t mind takin’ some of my pay in acreage.”

G.W. got to his feet, and Deborah was afraid for a moment that he would be wholly against the idea. “That’s something we overlooked,” he said, quite enthused. “I think it would be a great idea. We could sell or trade off pieces of the unproductive acres and bank the money for our future needs, as well as maybe trade some acreage for wages.”

“Who of you here would be of a mind to take acreage?” Arjan asked.

“I wouldn’t be able to live without some money,” Warren replied, “but I’d sure be interested. I always wanted to have a few acres – nothin’ big.”

“It wouldn’t be large pieces,” G.W. countered. “Probably more like ten- or twenty-acre parcels, at the most.”

“I like the sound of that,” Warren said, looking to Jake. “That was a good suggestion, whistle punk. You’ll be fellin’ trees before you know it.”

“We will continue to work out the details of how we can make this situation work,” Arjan continued, “and let you fellas know what’s expected. However, if you need to quit us, I’d like for you to come talk to me in the office.”

He sat down and motioned to Mother. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll have another slice of pie.”

C
HAPTER 29

O
CTOBER 1886

With October’s arrival came the devastating news that Deborah had feared. Indianola, Texas, had not only suffered the brunt of the hurricane’s forces, but it had been, for all purposes, destroyed. First, the storm itself had sent tidal floods and heavy winds. The newspaper account Uncle Arjan brought her reported that many people had tried to gather in the Signal Station, which was thought to be the strongest of buildings. However, as the water rose, the building began to rock. People, fearing for their lives, abandoned the place and hurried in the rising water to find shelter. The Signal Officer, a Mr. Reed, was charting the weather changes and remained behind to set the anemometer. The act proved to be fatal. A signal lamp set fire to the building and burned not only him, but an unidentified doctor. The fire didn’t kill them, however. They drowned as the water swept through the town and engulfed everything.

Deborah felt numb as she lowered the paper to her lap. Her mother and uncle sat beside her, waiting for her to say something. She looked at them, shaking her head. No words would come. Surely the unidentified doctor wasn’t Christopher.

“We heard the news in town,” her mother began. “Then I read it for myself in the paper. They say that over twenty-five people were lost in the Indianola area. Victoria sustained incredible damage, as well. We came home as quickly as we could to give you the news.”

“But that doesn’t mean the doc was there,” her uncle began. “It could be he was able to get out of Indianola before the storm hit.”

“And go where?” Deborah murmured. She looked at them both. “I need to be alone.” She got to her feet, the paper fluttering to the floor of the porch.

Without another word, she walked deep into the woods that she had always loved, her place of refuge. Even as a young girl she had come here to pray and seek God’s comfort when things were difficult. But there was no comfort to be had today. She could hardly form words of prayer.

“Oh, God,” she prayed, “Oh, God, please . . . please let Christopher be all right. I cannot bear the thought that he might be dead.”

Speaking the words aloud seemed to drain her of any pretense of strength. Deborah fell to her knees sobbing. “I cannot bear this, Lord. It’s too much.” She buried her face in her hands. All of her life, she had relied upon her intelligence to reason away complications and sorrows. She’d always found a way to make sense of things, in some capacity or another. To find some measure of solace.

But there was no solace to be had in this.

She remained on the damp forest ground for a long while. Easing back against one of the longleaf pines, she pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them close. She felt empty inside. Maybe this was a sign that Christopher truly was dead.

Deborah couldn’t get the words “unidentified doctor” out of her head. Surely, if the newspaper reporter had been able to learn the identity of the signal officer, the townsfolk could have told him the name of the doctor, as well. Unless, of course, that doctor had arrived in town only the week before.

A gentle breeze filtered through the trees and touched her damp face. Deborah lifted her gaze skyward, watching the gentle sway of the pines. Their lofty branches made a green canopy, allowing just enough light through to cast streams of illumination here and there.

“Are you with me, Father? I feel so alone.” A rustling in the brush nearby caused Deborah to take note, but she didn’t move.

A feral sow with her piglets came onto the path. The hog froze in step and stared at her as if trying to ascertain the threat. Deborah did nothing but return the stare. If the tusked animal charged her, Deborah would most likely suffer a fatal injury. Maybe that would be God’s mercy. Maybe Christopher was dead, and God knew the pain would be too much for her to endure. The hog snorted and the piglets came running to her side.

Deborah closed her eyes as if accepting her fate. There was no need to be afraid or to prepare for a fight for which she had no strength. If this truly was to be the end of her life, she wanted to face it without fear. She drew a deep breath.

I give my life to you, God. I have nothing left – no strength of
my own
.

When she opened her eyes again, the sow had moved on. Deborah could only see the hind ends of the piglets as they headed deeper into the woods with their mother. There was neither relief nor regret in the moment. It simply was as it was – nothing more, nothing less.

Deborah got to her feet and began to walk once again. She pushed into the heavier stand of pines, into areas where the trails narrowed and the brush had not been burned away. The drought had kept them from doing all of their normal winter burns the year before and only minimal work had been accomplished. This left them with a higher threat of fire, but the longleafs were strong. Fire actually stimulated their growth, so long as the temperatures of the flames weren’t too intense.

If I were a longleaf pine
, Deborah thought,
I could surely withstand
this fire.

But even the pines would be reduced to stubble if the fire burned hot enough. There was always a point at which any living thing could be killed.

She knew she should be aware of her surroundings – snakes and other Piney Woods rooters could harm her. Deborah tried to focus on the ground and the path ahead, but her mind imagined horrific scenes – collapsed, burned rubble and flooded streets. Images of the dead laid out side by side, waiting in their eternal rest for someone to take them home.

Tears anew blurred her eyes.
I feel no hope. No hope.

The words seemed to pace themselves to the beat of her steps.
No hope. No hope. No hope.
Despair poured over Deborah, leaving her breathless. She spied a stand of trees where the forest grass was not too deep and moved across the opening. Without being mindful of the ground, she collapsed and closed her eyes.

No hope. Oh, God, do not leave me without hope.

Deborah awoke some hours later. She had no idea of the time, but the light was greatly diminished and an uneasy silence hung over the woods. Getting to her feet, Deborah brushed off pine needles and dried grass.

For a moment, she couldn’t remember why she’d come here, and then the memories came rushing back. Christopher might be lost to her forever. He might be dead or injured . . . or if he was alive, not even care that she suffered. No, surely he could never be that cruel. Not the Christopher she knew.

Deborah looked around to get her bearings, then spied the path that would lead back to the house. Her mother would be worried by now. They might even be looking for her. Deborah had never intended to be gone for so long. Despite her sorrow and confusion, she didn’t want to add to her family’s worries.

She lifted her skirt to avoid tripping over it as she maneuvered through an area of fallen branches. Once back on the path, Deborah let out a long sigh. “I feel so weak now, but maybe that’s the point,” she murmured. As a human being – especially a woman – her strength was quite limited. These were the times, she could very nearly hear her mother say, when God’s strength was sufficient to carry her through.

“But how, when I don’t know what to do? How foolish to think myself so full of wisdom and knowledge that I would never make the same mistakes – endure the same hardships – that others might face.”

Perhaps the best thing to do would be to go back East and live with Aunt Wilhelmina. It would be getting cold up north, but she could be there before the first snows set in. Aunt Wilhelmina would happily welcome her back – she had said as much on many occasions. Perhaps her aunt could also help Deborah find a doctor who might be willing to train her. Philadelphia was a very progressive town. Surely there were equally progressive physicians.