Hearts Aglow (5 page)
He crossed the railroad tracks and walked slowly back to the white side of town. There was an unusual stillness in the air; Mr.
Perkins had actually closed down the sawmill for the afternoon funeral, a rare occurrence. A dozen or so men were gathered on the porch of the still-open commissary, while a great many others milled around the hardware store.
At home again, Christopher poured a cup of lukewarm coffee and served himself the last slice of pecan cake. Mrs. Perkins had sent the cake as a gift, by way of her two silly daughters. It was clear that the girls thought him a good catch, and it didn’t seem to discourage them that he was paying court to Deborah. Of course, he hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to make his intentions clear. He supposed they might, in fact, question the validity of the courtship since Christopher had done nothing overtly public to inform the community. Perhaps the girls thought him only casually interested in Deborah. Maybe they thought if they were coy and flirtatious, he might well change his mind and court one of them instead.
He settled down to the table and picked rather absentmindedly at the cake. He supposed he had no one but himself to blame. Even though he and Deborah had agreed to court with an intent to one day marry, they had agreed to keep their courtship rather casual. The townsfolk were used to seeing them together, but then, too, they knew of Deborah’s interest in medicine.
Not that this interest had been well received. It was one thing for a middle-aged healer to be a woman, but for a young, vibrant, unmarried lady to take up doctoring met with some discomfort in the little town of Perkinsville.
Christopher had said nothing to Deborah about the comments, but he was somewhat concerned. He’d had more than one family tell him that they did not wish to have Deborah involved in their medical needs. As the only doctor in the town, he felt he had to honor their desires, but it grieved him. Deborah was a quick learner and her passion for science knew no bounds. He hated to stifle her interests.
“Maybe I was wrong to come here,” he said, pushing the cake aside. He gave a heavy sigh and abandoned the coffee, as well. Getting to his feet, he decided the best thing he could do was head on out to the Vandermarks’ after all. He wouldn’t have any peace of mind until he did. Whether that stemmed from his concern for Sissy or his desire to be close to Deborah, he couldn’t be exactly sure.
He thought of his family as he crossed the road to the livery. He hadn’t seen his mother in some time. Her last letter had been full of worries and woes. She wrote of his younger brothers, fearing friends were leading them astray. His father remained distant and withdrawn. He’d never been the same after the accident that had left him paralyzed.
Despite his turmoil he forced a smile and motioned to a young boy who worked at the stable. “I need my horse. I have to make rounds.” He tossed a coin to the child.
“Yes, sir.” The boy easily caught the money and smiled. “I’ll be real quick.”
Christopher waited patiently while the boy went to the back of the livery to collect the doctor’s mount. The heady smell of horses, manure, and straw mingled in the air, which today was strangely lacking the normal smoke and dust from the mills. The air wasn’t of good quality on most days, and Christopher was glad to see that prevailing winds took most of the fumes away from the town.
“Here ya go, Doc,” the boy announced, leading a sturdy sorrel gelding. “He’s all ready for a run.”
Christopher thought the boy reminded him a bit of his youngest brother, Thomas. “How old are you, Robby?”
“Thirteen. Be fourteen next month.”
Smiling, Christopher nodded. “I have a brother just your age.”
“Truly? Does he have a job?” The boy pushed back his shoulders and eyed Christopher quite seriously. “Pa says by my age a boy needs to be workin’.”
“I haven’t seen him in a while,” Christopher replied, “but last I knew he was in school.”
Robby spit and shook his head. “Pa says there ain’t nothin’ I can learn in books what will beat life itself.”
Christopher knew that was the attitude of half the men in the county. There was no use demeaning the boy’s father and suggesting he was wrong. “Say, it’s been kind of chilly out – where are your shoes?”
The boy laughed. “Don’t wear shoes, lessen I have to. Ain’t no shoes I like.”
“Well, you don’t want to catch cold or worse.”
“Ma says I’m too ornery. My sisters both had scarlet fever and measles, but I ain’t been a bit sick.”
Christopher climbed atop the back of the horse and took up the reins. Without waiting for the boy to reply, Christopher urged the horse out of the livery and onto the road. The boy’s zest for life again reminded him of his siblings.
Memories of his family washed over him and the image of his petite mother, standing over a steaming pot of dirty clothes, immediately came to mind. She was aged beyond her years and would no doubt die young, as most overworked women did. The very thought caused him great sorrow. Never once in her life had she had it easy. Never once had she known a carefree day of rest. Even on the Lord’s Day, there were children to care for and meals to put on the table. He knew the money he sent home helped, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing would please him more than to hire a nurse or housekeeper to help his mother with the workload, but there wasn’t any extra cash for such things. Not that his mother would ever allow for the frivolity.
He smiled and pressed on toward the Vandermarks’. Deborah reminded him of his mother. In fact, she reminded him of her a great deal. They were both hardworking and more than a little ambitious, and both had a special place in his heart.
Pastor Shattuck called a community meeting at the church to discuss the Texas Independence Day celebration. The yearly event in March was anticipated very nearly as much as Christmas. Just thinking about the roasted meats and wonderful music put a tremor of excitement in Deborah’s stomach. She hadn’t been to an Independence Day celebration in some years and only now realized just how much she missed it.
“Before we finalize our plans for the Independence Day festivities,” the pastor began, “I feel it’s important we speak on the tragedy that has befallen our county.”
There were murmurings and a barely audible curse. Stunned, Deborah turned to throw a disapproving glare in the direction of whoever might have said such a thing in God’s house. Her mother did likewise, along with several of the other older women.
Artemus Shattuck let the matter go, however. He tucked his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I have a grave concern for this community. It seems to me that folks have closed their eyes to bad behavior in hopes that it will simply depart. I have rarely seen such a thing happen. It is important that we take a stand – together as a town – against the prejudices and injustices we’ve seen of late.”
“I thought we were figuring out where to set up the judging booths for the quilts,” an older woman declared.
“Yeah, I figured you were going to let us know what time the fiddlers and pickers were to commence playin’,” a man in front of Deborah called out.
“All of that in due time. I hoped while I had your attention, it would be fitting to remind you of our recent tragedies so that we might prevent such things from happening again. After all, we wouldn’t want such things to interfere with our preparations. I’m sure everyone here would agree that this is a community celebration. We wouldn’t want anyone to feel left out or slighted. Given the problems we’ve seen of late, I fear that some of our black brothers and sisters might feel intimidated or fearful of attending.”
“Long as they stay in their place, it won’t be a problem.” This came from Zed Perkins’s eldest son, Todd. “We’ve always had a place where they could celebrate, as well.”
“I had rather thought it might do us all well to include the black community in our own celebration. Unite the two parts of our town and get to know one another better,” Pastor Shattuck declared.
A hush fell over the room. Folks grew uneasy. It was evident that they felt the pastor had lost his mind.
“We are all of different ancestry here. I’m of German and English descent. The Vandermarks are Dutch. The Huebners are German. The Fosters have Scottish and English ancestors. Doc Clayton sports an English name, and the founder of our town told me not long ago that his family has roots not only in England, as the name Perkins suggests, but also he shares a connection with the French. We have our differences, but we all have one thing in common. We are Texans. Before we are Americans or anything else – we proudly bear the name Texan.”
Deborah saw several people nod in approval. At least that much was well received. She met Christopher’s gaze and smiled. She’d never thought of his name being English. The fact was, there was still a great deal she didn’t know about the man. He spoke very little of his family except to say they needed his help. She would have to make a special point to get him to tell her more.
“Folks, what I’m trying to say here is that we’re in a sorry state of existence when we focus on a man’s skin color rather than his actions. The Good Book says God doesn’t even see the outward appearance of man, but looks at his heart. Oughten we do the same?”
Pastor Shattuck came down from the pulpit and stood directly in front of the congregated people. “We want to celebrate our independence, but I don’t see how we can do that by trying to restrict others. I’d like to suggest we start a new tradition. Let’s have a black and white baseball game on our Texas Independence Day.”
Deborah heard some grumbling, but then Zed Perkins stood and raised his hands. “Look, I think we need to get back to planning our festivities. I’m not opposed to a black and white baseball game. Seems likely they won’t be very good, considering they don’t get to play much, but I don’t object.” He looked to the gathered crowd.
Deborah thought his gaze lingered a little longer on some of the men. Perhaps he knew their hearts and wondered just as she did whether or not they had been involved. It was most disturbing to imagine that killers could lurk in their own little town. What if her friends and neighbors were amongst those who had killed George and David?
“Most of you know that I have my own issues with Injuns and Mexicans. Ain’t necessarily somethin’ I’m proud of, but it’s just the way things are. I hire blacks, same as whites. I pay a fair salary for a fair day’s work. I don’t want to see any more killings in our town. I’d just as soon the White Hand of God not show itself around these parts anymore.” He turned back to Pastor Shattuck. “But you ain’t gonna change the way folks think overnight.”
Pastor Shattuck smiled. “I didn’t figure I could, but I do know that God is able to change the heart of any man or woman, and that is my prayer.”
The discussion moved quickly after that to the original reason they’d gathered. When the plans were finally agreed upon an hour later, Deborah was more than ready to stand and stretch her legs.
She looked at her mother and offered her a hand up.
“Seems like these issues should get a little easier to discuss each time they’re brought up,” Mother said, sounding bitter. “But they don’t. Folks just seem unwilling to forget about the past and about our differences. Maybe it will never change. Maybe the color of a person’s skin will always be the only thing people can see.”
Deborah pondered her mother’s words as Christopher came to join them. He appeared to have heard the latter part of the conversation.
“Introducing change is never easy,” he said, nodding his head toward the two women. He then turned to Deborah’s mother. “If it won’t delay your departure, I have some medical journals your daughter should read.”
“How soon do you plan to head home, Mother?” Deborah asked.
“Not for a little while. I have shopping to do, and G.W. and Rob were headed to the hardware store to pick up new saw blades. You go along. We’ll come fetch you at the doctor’s office when we’re fixin’ to go.”
Turning to Christopher, Deborah smiled. “It seems I can manage a little time.”
He nodded but didn’t offer her his arm. Deborah walked easily at Christopher’s side, keeping pace with his long strides. She liked the way he carried himself – so sure and confident.
“Before we talk medicine, I wondered if we might talk about you,” Deborah said, smiling. “It seems you know so much about me and my kin. When Pastor mentioned you were of English ancestry, I realized that I knew very little about you. You have family in Kansas City, and you’re the eldest of fifteen children, but what else?”
Christopher shrugged. “There’s not all that much to tell. You know that my father is crippled and my mother does what she can to keep the family together. There are still five children at home.”
“Tell me about them,” she insisted. They walked to the doctor’s office and house, and Deborah pointed to the porch. “Let’s sit out here to avoid all suspicion.”
Christopher chuckled. “You think that will reduce concern, do you?” He allowed her to step onto the porch first.
Deborah quickly took a seat and waited for him to join her. “I think it will help. Folks seem uncertain as to what our relationship constitutes. With me seeking to learn about medicine and our courtship arrangement . . . well, I believe we have quite baffled most of the community.”
“How so?”
“Well, women do not seek out jobs, especially ones that require them to train with men. And we had no formal announcement of our courtship, so most folks believe us to merely be in the early stages of trying to decide if we want to court.” She shrugged. “But let them guess. I’ve never been conventional.”
