Kitty opened her eyes. “I am. Are you okay?”
Madeline leaned on her elbow. “I’ll be fine.”
“Are you gonna get to marry Doc?”
“Your Pa’s working on it.”
“Do you love him?” Kitty nuzzled her pillow. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her long, dark eyelashes lay against her tan cheeks. She was a pretty girl, and at twelve, still a child, but much closer to being courted herself than she could yet realize. Madeline’s heart pounded in her chest. She did love Doc. But she didn’t want to damage Kitty’s future. It wouldn’t be fair.
“I do.”
“Why do you love him?” Kitty’s words were muffled with sleep and the down pillow.
Madeline rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Why did she love him? After all of the time she had spent not looking for love. “Because he is kind and respectful.”
“And he’s handsome.” Kitty yawned.
“Yes. He’s very handsome.” Madeline closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come.
She lay awake until the night noises sounded like a cacophony. The sun hadn’t begun to rise yet, but hope had.
She wanted to marry Doc, and she wanted to protect Kitty’s reputation in town. Sarah and Zeke couldn’t consent to an illegal marriage, but if she and Doc were to run away, and if Sarah and Zeke were to make their disapproval known in town, then surely she could have both of her hearts desires.
She slipped out of the house as quietly as she could and went around to the barn to get a horse and cart. She wouldn’t steal it, though, just borrow it and leave it with a note at Doc’s little farm.
She loaded crates of herbs and tools in the cart, but left the seed packets and catalog. Zeke could sell them and make money from them, and then she would not have taken from their meager resources for the time she had stayed with them.
The moon was bright, and the path to Doc’s house indelibly written in her mind. She didn’t push the horse to get there fast, but her own heart was racing. He wouldn’t reject her, but would he be willing to come away, or ready?
He had been ready to accept a woman as a partner in his life and business, but this step was forward in the extreme. She paused at the turn to his house. She could go back. Or she could go forward.
She went forward.
She tied the horse and cart to the fence shaking from bonnet to button boots. The night was colder than the day, and though she hadn’t changed from her dress and shawl, the air bit at her cheeks. But it was fear that made her shake. Her hand shook as she rapped the door-knocker. Her chin shook as she imagined what she might say.
She rapped the knocker again, and then a third time.
The door was thrust open, and Madeline stepped backwards.
Doc held a medical bag in one hand and buttoned his trousers with the other. He stood bare-chested in the doorway. “Is it Job?”
“No, it’s…”
Doc grabbed a shirt from somewhere on the other side of the door and put it on as he ran down the porch steps.
“Not Kitty? It was such a little cough. It shouldn’t have spread.”
“It’s not that.” Madeline held her hand out. “Leave with me.” She pressed her hand to her mouth.
Doc stopped.
“While everyone sleeps. We can make it to Idaho by nightfall. Zeke says the law there is different.”
“I know what Zeke says.” Doc’s voice was rough with emotion.
“If we leave now, before they can stop us, we can make it to Idaho, where we can be free.”
“Miss Snow, I can’t just run.” He looked toward his house.
Madeline bit her lip. He was saying no. A fever of embarrassment burned her cheeks.
“I’m sorry.” Doc set his bag down and took her in his arms. He held her in a light embrace, not too close, but his fingers gripped her arms as though he didn’t want her to slip away. “You’re a lady.” He whispered in her ear. “I can’t do that to you.”
The sound of hooves galloping in the distance caught Madeline’s ear. She turned and saw the clouds of dust as three men—no, four—she squinted. There were four men at the front of the riders, but more than that, far more than that riding toward them.
Doc shaded his eyes and assessed the men. “Cary.” He muttered the name under his breath, but Madeline understood.
Doc pulled her into his house. He shut the door and pushed a chair under the handle. “Get back, Miss Snow, please. As far back from the door as you can.”
In the distance, a gun fired, the sound reverberating in Madeline’s head.
“Git out here you ugly, yeller sinner!”
Another gun fired, shattering the glass in one small pane of Doc’s front window.
Doc reached for Madeline. She grabbed his hand and tugged it.
“Come away from there!” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.
“I don’t run away.” Doc pressed his hand against her back, pushing her gently from him. “Please, go to another room and stay low.”
Madeline moved to the far side of the room and sunk to her knees. She wouldn’t go somewhere she couldn’t see him.
Doc grabbed a rifle and loaded it. He put the muzzle through the hole in his window, but didn’t say anything. The wooden butt of his rifle was pressed against his shoulder, his eye level with the long metal barrel. His body was completely still.
Madeline stared at the dark wood gun against his clean cotton shirt. He levered the rifle with a clack that split the tense silence.
“You coming out, or are we all coming in?” This time, the oily tones of Mr. Cary were unmistakable.
“He’s got her with him in thar!” a shrill voice cried out. “I can see her through the winder!”
Madeline folded her shaking arms over her head. Her heart thundered. She laced her fingers together and prayed for protection, for peace, for safety, and then prayed for them again and again.
She had brought this to Doc, but she didn’t know how to undo it.
“What’s yer business?” Doc shouted, but his body maintained the perfect stillness. A stillness Madeline longed for.
“You’re our business, boy. Why don’t you come on out here so we can talk like gentlemen.” Cary’s oily voice turned Madeline’s stomach.
Madeline crawled across the floor to Doc’s side. “Don’t go.” She laid her fingers on top of his knee.
“I won’t leave you,” Doc whispered.
“We see Greene’s old nag in your yard, boy. You comin’ out to us, or do we have to come in and get the lady ourselves?’
Doc’s motions were smooth and fast. The gun was down. Madeline was below the window, and he stood in the door, with his hands up.
“No!”
“I hear her!” some man from the posse shouted.
Madeline pressed herself against the wall. Horses began to whinny and stamp. Then feet, so many feet, pounded against the hard dirt, and then up the steps, and then Doc’s voice again.
“Hold on, now.”
But they didn’t hold on. Two men grabbed him by his raised arms and dragged him down the steps. Then everyone shouted at once, hollered, hooted, like it was a party, or a celebration. More guns fired. Madeline rocked back on her heels and peered through the lower edge of the window.
Doc was on his knees and men were kicking him.
He spit on the ground in front of him.
“That what you think?” Cary brought the butt of his gun down on Doc’s head. Doc fell, and the kicking continued.
Madeline crawled on her hands and knees to the door. When she was behind it, she stood up. There was another gun in this house, somewhere.
A hand pressed on her shoulder.
Doc’s grandfather.
His eyes were narrowed with a look of hate. “What have you done?” Each word of English came out with a struggle.
“Get me a gun! Please,” Madeline whispered.
Grandfather stepped out to the porch.
“It’s the old man!” a voice in the crowd holler
ed. Then another gun shot. Another pane in window shattered.
Doc lay unmoving on the ground. A big man with a full black beard picked him up.
Mr. Sutton.
He dropped Doc across the back of his horse.
“No!” Madeline’s voice was a ragged scream.
Cary looked up and smiled. “Miss.” He tipped his hat.
Grandfather grabbed Madeline’s sleeve.
She wrenched free from his grip and ran down the steps.
Mr. Cary stopped her. “Let the gentlemen handle this problem.”
Madeline froze. Doc’s face was bruised and swollen. A line of blood dripped down his forehead, past his closed eyes. Mr. Sutton turned the horse and walked off. Madeline spun, looking for Grandfather, but he was gone as well.
“Doc seems to have run into a spot of trouble, Miss Snow. Looks like he needs us to help him get to the doctor.” Cary mounted his horse and left without a further word. The posse followed with more hoots and hollers.
Madeline ran to her wagon and untied the horse. She couldn’t go fast, but she could follow. Whether they wanted her to or not.
Chapter 10
Madeline held far enough back from the posse that she could see them in the rising sun, but couldn’t hear their hoots and hollers. Despite what Mr. Cary had said, they did not head to town where Dr. Julius would have been able to tend to Doc.
The land was flat and the brush low to the ground so Madeline could mark their progress from a distance. She stopped her wagon and watched as the group of men began to splinter, most heading away from her but towards town. She guessed they had been drinking, and praised God that none came back her way.
It was impossible to tell what was happening, but a couple of horses had stopped, just dark blots against the pale morning sky. When all of the riders had turned away from their brief stopping point, Madeline drove forward.
Doc lay face down on the rocky soil.
They had just left him far from town, most likely to die under the desert sun.
Madeline stroked the side of his face. His skin was hot and wet with blood. She picked his hat up from where it had fallen and fanned him. Somewhere in her supplies, she had smelling salts and something that could be used to staunch the bleeding. She pressed gently on a gash on the side of his head. Head wounds bled generously, even when they weren’t dangerous.
Doc flinched.
Madeline bent and kissed his wounded forehead. He was alive.
She found the small vial of ammonia salts. Gripping it in her hand like a treasure, she rolled him over. He grunted, and his eyes flickered.
She opened the bottle and waved it around.
His nose wrinkled and his lips curled. His eyes opened up. His face was almost unrecognizable from the beating, but he was alive. She repeated it a third time to try and convince herself. He was alive.
“Can you stand if I help you?”
He closed his eyes again, but nodded yes.
She offered her arm, and he staggered to his feet. Leaning heavily on her, he made it to the wagon. He laid himself down with her few crates.
“I’ll get you home, and your grandfather will see to your wounds.”
“Madeline—Miss Snow…” His voice was weak. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t speak, Doc. Just rest.”
The drive back seemed rougher than the drive out. Each rock and bump in the road felt like a jolt. He was sorry—but she had brought this on him. They would need to hide out and rest at his place until night, and then leave for Idaho. He’d never make it as he was.
Doc’s place came into view, with smoke rising from the blackened front porch. Zeke sat on his horse, staring out at the road to town.
Madeline drove into the yard, her courage in the pit of her stomach. Her hands shook as she reined in the horses.
Zeke’s face was grim. He dismounted his horse and took the reins from Madeline. “I got the fire out before too much damage was done.”
A small, very small, hope glimmered. Zeke hadn’t tried to burn down the house. Of course he hadn’t. “Where’s Grandfather?”
“I sent him into town in his cart. Doc’s ma has a downstairs shop with a few other women. She’ll keep him safe.” Zeke looked into the cart. Doc hadn’t risen, and his eyes were shut, his face creased with pain. Zeke whistled. “He don’t look good.”
“I had hoped his grandfather could help.”
“He’ll have to do with you and me.” Zeke lifted Doc as though he were a boy, and carried him into the house.
Zeke laid Doc on a bench. He wrapped the wound with a length of white cotton shirting. Madeline looked twice—Zeke wrapped Doc’s wound with the shirt from his own back.
“Let me make him something for his pain.”
“Sure. He and I will have a chat.”
Madeline carried a small round box into the kitchen. She put water on to boil, then opened her box of Chamomile and poured leaves into the water.
She found cups on an open shelf. This could have been her kitchen, if…if what? There were no options for them in Oregon. She brought three cups of tea into the living room. Doc wasn’t sitting up yet, but he was leaning back on a pillow now, and alert.
“Doc’s got broken ribs, I’d say. And a splitting headache. So don’t go talking his ear off.” Zeke took a cup of tea.
“Miss Snow, I don’t rightly now how to explain.”
“And God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.” Madeline sipped her tea. “There is no new evil in the world, Doc.”
“No, that there isn’t.”
“He’s a bit too sick to travel alone, Madeline. But it’s a bit too hot here for him to stay.” Zeke rocked back on his chair legs. “So, I’m thinkin’ it’s time for the two of you to head out.”
“But can he safely?” Madeline touched the bandage on his head.
Doc caught her fingers and kissed them.
“He can’t safely stay, which I’d say is more to the point. See here now, I wish I could help the two of you out in some way. I can load your wagon, brother. And I can give you a name in Boise. But more than that?” He shook his head.
“Boise is too far. There’s a little mission church just the other side of Ontario. We’ll go there.” Doc’s face twitched with pain as he spoke.
“You’re a half a day’s ride from Ontario, so you’d better git as quickly as you can.” Zeke wore a concerned frown but his words were brusque. “I like both of you. And I wish it were differ’nt. But ‘taint.” He stood up. “I’ll load your wagon with everything that fits. The missionary can marry you in Idaho. It’ll be better out there.”
“What will you tell Sarah?” Madeline asked.
“I’ll tell her the truth. You’re settled now, and she don’t have to worry anymore.” Zeke’s eyes were red, and he pushed his way out of the house.
Madeline pulled herself straight. Sarah wasn’t her worry now. Doc was. “Please, drink the tea. It will help.”
Doc squeezed her hand. “I’ll be fine. This ain’t the first time I’ve been knocked around.”
Outside the broken window Zeke heaved boxes into Doc’s wagon. In a moment, Madeline would join him, and load up everything that Doc told her to. But for right now, she’d sit holding the hand of the only man she could ever love. She prayed, as she sat in silence. For God’s mercy on them as they traveled, for Doc’s healing, and for this man who didn’t run away, that he wouldn’t come to hate her for making him run. She dropped his hand to wipe a tear that ran down her face.
“Don’t bother with crying, Madeline. It won’t change this town.” Doc sat up and winced. “Zeke’s right, we have to leave, but we’ll come back, and when we do, we’ll be husband and wife, and we’ll open up a shop right on Main Street, just to show ‘em.” His eyes sparked, half humor, and half determination.
She smiled and pressed her lips to his smooth hand. “I don’t care if I never see th
is town again, Doc Lee.”
He lay back again, and smiled.
This book is dedicated to Nellie Towers Yip who her married her true love in 1900
and lived the life of Madeline Snow’s dreams.
To learn more about early Chinese culture in North America and interracial marriage visit the Chinese in North America Research Committee website at http://www.cinarc.org/
Wait—Shakers had washing machines?
They did! The Shakers lived a Plain life so they could spend more time in song and prayer instead of the daily drudgery it takes to keep a home running. In fact, Shakers are credited as inventing the first washing machine! They also created the first flat bottom broom so sweeping would be more efficient as well as a method of fabric preparation that made dirt wash off much easier.
Their design aesthetic is admired world over, but the original purpose of their clean lines and simple shapes was to make the house easy to clean.
Shakers weren’t just great inventors, they were also renowned for their education. People from nearby communities sent their children to the Shakers so they could attend a quality school. Families also entrusted their orphaned relations to the Shaker communities because of the loving care, worshipful lifestyle, and education they would receive. This helped keep the Shaker communities vibrant for many years.
Unfortunately for the Shakers, states began to take over the welfare of orphans around the First World War. Without children to raise up, the celibate Shaker movement has died out over the generations. Today there are just a handful of practicing Shakers, though fans of Plain living and clean, simple design, are working together to preserve the legacy this group left the world.
Are Shakers Born Again?
Shakers don’t use that term for themselves, but more telling, Shaker teaching on who and what the Messiah is differs from that of the mainstream Protestant Christian Church.
From early days, Shakers believed in equality for men, women and for all races. They fully embraced and lived Galations 3:28 “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus” (KJV).
Hearts to God (The Hearts to God Series) Page 6
