Christmas at Stoney Creek

by Martha Rogers

  “It is, but the horse and buggy got through. The doctor is back getting the infirmary ready with all the supplies he might need in case of injuries.”

  “I pray it won’t come to that.” Faith adjusted her slicker. “I’m ready to go back out. I hope we can still get across the street.”

  Mrs. Whiteman squeezed Faith’s shoulders. “I think we’ll be okay if the water doesn’t become too swift.”

  Tom handed his mother an umbrella. “Here, take Papa’s umbrella. It’ll protect you walking across to the bakery.”

  “Thank you, Son. Now, ladies, let’s go.”

  She headed toward the door, and Aunt Ruby followed. Faith grasped Tom’s hand. “This is the worst rain I’ve ever seen.”

  Tom patted her hand. “Me too, but it’s going to be okay. Some homes may be flooded, but we’ll make it through.”

  She peered into his eyes searching for any doubts he might have, but all she found was confidence. If he believed that, she could as well. “All right, I’ll be back as soon as I can with more food.”

  On her way out she spotted Joe talking with two of the men who had brought their families in to safety. Somehow that man seemed to be everywhere at once these days. She didn’t have time to speculate about him now, but she wanted to talk with Tom about recent events.

  The rain still fell, but it had lessened quite a bit. Thunder boomed in the distance, but nothing came as close as the one she’d felt earlier. Maybe this meant the water would recede and not flood the town. Then she realized the storm had come in from the south, probably off the Gulf, and was headed north. That meant waters from the north would flow south and fill the creek even if the rain stopped here. No, Stoney Creek was far from being out of danger. This could turn into a long night with little or no sleep.

  She ran through the now larger puddles of water to cross the street and get to the bakery. Mrs. Whiteman would be a blessing for Mama. More hands meant more sandwiches could be made in a shorter amount of time.

  Tom yawned and pulled his watch from his pocket. Well after midnight, and most of the refugees from the storm had settled for the night. The younger single and family men had left to help the sheriff do what they could to protect the lowland properties. He would have gone with them, but the sheriff had asked him to stay and take care of those seeking haven from the storm. A small group of older men sat huddled together discussing the storm. Joe stood on the fringes of the group.

  After he’d listened a few minutes, Joe meandered among the beds made on the floor, writing something on a pad. Tom sat still and observed Joe’s actions through half-closed eyes. Interesting. What could he be taking notes about? Tom had already written down what he planned to put in his news article, so what could be Joe’s interest?

  When a hand touched his shoulder, Tom jumped up to find Joe standing beside him.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you, but I wasn’t sure if you were asleep or not.”

  Tom shook his head to clear it. How had he dosed off like that? “I’m fine. Do you need something?”

  “No, I wanted to let you know I’m heading back to the boardinghouse to check on Mrs. Hutchins and the women. I left them there when I heard they needed help here. We won’t be able to assess any damage until morning, so we may as well get some sleep.”

  There he went again, using language no hobo or tramp would speak. “I think I’ll stay here. Mrs. Weatherby said she, Ma, and Mrs. Booker planned to be at the diner in the morning. The cook there is putting together a hot meal, and Mrs. Delmont is baking bread to go with it.”

  “That sounds fine.” He settled his hat on his head and headed for the door. “See you tomorrow.”

  Tom sat with a frown on his face. Somehow he had to figure out who Joe really was and what his purpose could be in Stoney Creek. Somebody somewhere had to know about the man.

  Now that his mind had gone into gear, sleep fled. Tom stretched and walked around the room to wake up the rest of his body. He pulled from his pocket the notes he’d taken about the storm and read them by the light of the dim lamps placed about the room. Words and phrases became sentences and the entire article formed in his mind. The end wouldn’t come until tomorrow or maybe the next day, but he had the beginnings.

  He made note of the sleeping families whose names he knew. Gretchen could use them to write a few human interest stories as well. After everyone in the room had fallen asleep and the lamps has been put out, Tom made his way to the front and peered out the window. The rain had stopped, but the wind still blew in gusts. How much better things would be if they already had electricity and street lamps installed.

  With even the saloon shut up and dark, he could barely make out the buildings across the street. Rather than trying to find his way back in the dark to where he’d been earlier, Tom sank to the floor by the doors and rested against the walls.

  He bowed his head and prayed for the safety of those in the building and their homes. He prayed for his uncle and the families out on ranches who had to make sure their cattle reached high ground. The quieter it became inside, the louder the sounds outside became. One sound he recognized and feared . . . flowing water.

  He opened the doors and stepped outside to find water flowing in the streets. At this rate it wouldn’t take long for the water to rise over the boardwalks and invade the stores. He prayed the water would flow on down south where it would join with the river again and go on to the Gulf. A flood in town before the holidays would not bode well for Stoney Creek businesses.

  Joe sat by the window in his room and stared out at the darkened streets below. When the rain ceased, he opened his window, and the sound of rippling water replaced that of the rain.

  How much water was actually out there? The last time he’d checked the front of the boardinghouse, the water had been a good foot from the top of the porch, but more could have come by now. Mrs. Hutchins and the other boarders had not seemed concerned, so apparently the house had seen floods like this before.

  He’d heard stories of tornadoes and how they could rip through a town in a few minutes and create havoc, but this had been no tornado. The only other storm he could imagine was a hurricane. That kind of storm would account for the prolonged winds and rain, but the winds hadn’t been strong enough to do much damage that he could see. When a cold breeze blew in, he closed his window.

  A growl in his stomach reminded him how long it’d been since he’d last eaten. Maybe there’d be a few leftovers in the kitchen. He lit a candle and placed it in the stand. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he detected a light in the kitchen.

  Mrs. Hutchins sat at the kitchen table with her hands wrapped around a pottery cup. She glanced up when he entered.

  “I see you couldn’t sleep either. Grab a cup of hot coffee and join me.”

  While he poured his coffee, she opened the icebox and brought out butter and jam. She placed them on the table. “Some bread and butter will taste good with your coffee.”

  She reached into the breadbox and brought out a loaf of her bread. After slicing a few pieces, she placed them on a plate. “Maybe this will hold you until breakfast.”

  Joe buttered a slice of bread and smeared it over with apple butter. “How did you know I wanted something to eat?”

  “Oh, when a man comes to the kitchen in the middle of the night, it’s usually because his stomach called out to him in hunger.” Mrs. Hutchins grinned at him over the rim of her cup.

  “I’m grateful you know that.” He swallowed a bite and picked up his mug.

  Mrs. Hutchins leaned forward on her elbows. “You know, if things get any worse out there with the rising water, people are going to need your help.”

  He almost choked on the hot liquid. He set it down and coughed. “What . . . what . . . do you mean?” His chest tightened, and his hands shook.

  “I mean what with your skill at carpentry and building things, people will need your help. I hope you weren’t planning to leave anytime soon.”

  “Um, I�
��m not sure when that will be.” He relaxed in his chair and sipped his coffee again. He set the cup on the table. “If I can be of aid to anyone with rebuilding, I’ll be available.”

  “I figured you would. That rocking chair you made me is the finest I’ve seen in a long time. You’re a fine man, Joe Fitzgerald, and you’re very talented. This town is lucky you stopped by for a visit.”

  Mrs. Hutchins was a good woman, and he did want to stay around to help with any repairs and rebuilding that had to be done. The one thing he couldn’t predict was how his health would hold out. If the pain became too unbearable, he’d be on the next train back to home.

  CHAPTER 23

  TOM JERKED AWAKE. Gray light beamed through the windows, indicating an overcast sky. All about the hall women and children awoke and prepared for the day. Most of the men had not yet returned from their nightlong duties. He stood and stretched to remove the kinks formed in his muscles from a night on the floor.

  Sheriff Bolton pushed open the town hall door. He nodded to Tom before addressing the crowded room. “Listen up, folks. The streets in town are near knee-deep with water. All the homes in the lowlands near the creek and not built on a raised foundation have water in them. We were able to lead livestock to higher ground. We don’t know when the water will go down or how much rain fell north of us that might impact our area. Until then you’ll need to stay here. Your men are taking care of your homes and seeing about the damage. When they can, they’ll come in and let you know the conditions at your places.”

  The women murmured among themselves until one stepped forward, her hands clasped tight against her chest. “Sheriff, what are we supposed to do if we can’t go back to our homes?”

  The sheriff pushed his hat back from his face and scrubbed his forehead. “I’m not real sure about that, ma’am. The mayor and the preachers are talking and organizing. We should have information for you soon. Until then stay here where you’re safe and dry.”

  This brought more talk among the women, worried frowns creased many faces, and several sat down with their heads resting on their hands. The children, oblivious to the crisis, laughed and played with each other while a few older girls tried to keep the younger ones in check.

  “As soon as we can tell you more, you will hear it.” Sheriff Bolton blew out his breath and opened the door. “Tom, I saw Mr. Blake headed to the news office. I think maybe y’all got a little water down there. I got a boat to bring food supplies for the people here. Mr. Delmont will bring the food. I don’t want the ladies to risk getting in the boat.”

  “What about my mother and the ladies from the church?”

  “The women have been advised to stay at home or get to a shelter. Two of my deputies have a boat searching for anyone who may be stranded. They’ll bring whoever they find back here.”

  He lowered his voice and leaned toward Tom. “It looks bad. The water’s much higher down by the creek and is over three feet deep in many areas. It’ll take awhile for things to get cleaned up.”

  “I understand. I’ll go over to the newspaper office and see what help Mr. Blake may need.”

  “Fine, but be careful and be prepared to wade across in knee-deep water. Some of the businesses did get water. Since the hall is on the higher end of town, everyone should be okay here.”

  Tom’s gaze once again went around the room. “We need to organize some leadership here and set up some routine to keep the people here under control.” With over fifty women and children plus those older men who didn’t need to be out helping, things would be in chaos unless someone took charge.

  He followed Sheriff Bolton out to the boardwalk. Water sloshed over the edge but didn’t flood across it.

  “You’re right about organizing things, Tom. The mayor has called an emergency meeting of the town council to get everyone organized and ready to help. They’ll take care of the people at town hall. We really didn’t have time to think last night since this all happened so fast. Maybe we’ll get it all done today.” He waved and waded across to the courthouse and the mayor’s office.

  Tom looked up the street. The brown water flowing past sent chills up his spine. Nobody should be out in this mess, but just then he spotted the boat with Mr. Delmont and Carl, the diner cook, making its way down from the bakery.

  Mr. Delmont waved. “Hey, Tom, we have food here for the refugees. We need help setting it up.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” He headed back inside to find two of the women he had met earlier. They were in their sections talking and organizing activities for the children.

  “Mrs. Dietrich, Mrs. Calhoun, the food is on its way. If you ladies could help spread it out and get the others in line or something, they’ll be served more quickly.”

  “We know exactly what to do.” Mrs. Calhoun looked serious. “How is it out there?”

  “We’re okay. It’s not over the walks.”

  “My John is out there, and he hasn’t been back to tell me anything.” Mrs. Calhoun peered at him, her eyes filled with concern.

  “I don’t know any more than what the sheriff told us a few minutes ago. He said he’d let us know more later, so we’ll have to go with that. Right now I need you two ladies to help organize the others and get the food ready. See, Mr. Delmont and Carl are coming in the door now.”

  “Oh, my, of course. Let’s go, Hettie.” Mrs. Dietrich marched over to the tables and began organizing and delegating nonstop.

  With the meal in good hands, Tom once again headed to the newspaper. Wading through the knee-deep water at street crossings slowed him down and reminded him of the seriousness of the situation. He stopped at the door and spotted Mr. Blake already with a mop in hand sopping up water. Tom found close to an inch of water on the office floor.

  “How did this get in here? It’s not over the walk.” Tom splashed over to his desk and stood surveying the mess.

  Mr. Blake handed Tom a mop. “Here, you can help. A window busted and let in the rain. I’ve got it about under control. I don’t think there’s any major damage, but I won’t know until I start the presses.”

  Tom swished his mop across the floor and directed the water toward the front door and outside. “How deep was it when you came in?”

  “Not much more than it is now. Just got started a few minutes before you arrived.” Mr. Blake resumed mopping.

  They worked for another half hour and removed the water, leaving damp floorboards and chair legs. Mr. Blake approached the printing press to inspect the damage. “Don’t see much it could have hurt. Let me get it started.”

  A few minutes later, the welcome sound of grinding gears filled the room. Mr. Blake waved his hands and shouted, “Hallelujah, praise the Lord, it works.”

  Tom clapped. This good news meant they could get right to work on the stories and news that had to be written to inform the people. “I’m going out and see what’s going on with the mayor and the town council. Sheriff Bolton said the mayor was organizing people to help those who lost their homes or had significant damage to them.”

  “Good, Tom. You do that, and I’ll go investigate where the floodwaters are. In the meantime, things will dry out here.”

  Tom nodded, grabbed his pad and pencil, and headed out for his story. Now was the time for the town of Stoney Creek to unite in the effort to take care of its own. If he used the past as a guide, everyone would come together in the next few days and do whatever they could to help.

  Joe changed into his work clothes. Herbert Spooner planned to go into town to the bank. Mr. Swenson might need help, although the bank most likely wouldn’t open today. Joe wanted to talk more with Mr. Swenson, so he’d asked Herbert to share the boat they’d found in the storage barn behind the boardinghouse.

  He joined Herbert downstairs and followed him out to the back. The barn sat on a hill above the waterline, so they lugged the boat to where the water rippled deep enough for the vessel. Herbert held the boat while Joe climbed aboard. Herbert joined him and picked up the oar.


  “The water can’t be more than about two feet deep, but I don’t relish the idea of walking in it.” Herbert dipped the oar into the water and steered the boat toward Main Street.

  All along the way shop owners swept water off the walks. Most of them had placed sandbags at their doorways to keep water from their stores, so little damage would be seen in town thankfully.

  When they reached the bank, Mr. Swenson met them at the door. “Good morning. Glad to see you. The mayor called a meeting of the town council. I’m on my way there now. Got room in that boat for me?”

  “Sure do, Mr. Swenson. I’ll drop you off and come back to the bank if you want me to.”

  “That’ll be fine, Herbert. My daughter may try to come in later and help. Don’t know if we’ll have any business, but I’ll feel good knowing you’re there to take care of things.”

  He said nothing to Joe until they reached the town square and both climbed out of the boat at the courthouse. Mr. Swenson waited until Herb backed away and rowed back to the bank before speaking to Joe.

  “Before I go inside, I want to tell you how much it’s going to mean to the town for you to be here for our recovery. Mayor Gladstone has already told me that one of the things on the agenda at this meeting will be setting up a relief fund to help those who need it. With what you’ve told me, we can open up a line of credit at the bank for those seeking loans for repairs and rebuilding.”

  “I’m glad my attorney wasted no time getting the trust arranged. Remember, any money paid back goes straight back into the trust, and there’s to be no interest charged for the loans.”

  “I remember, and this is a good thing you’re doing, but I do wish you’d let them know it’s you.”

  “That’s part of the deal. If they know it’s me, they’ll be asking a million questions. No, it’s better for me to simply disappear when I decide to go back home, and let them benefit from it all.” The last thing Joe wanted now was publicity and notoriety. He simply wanted to go home and die in peace knowing that his good fortune could be passed on to others.