Her Healing Ways

by Lyn Cote

  “Well, you’ll have to find your own way,” Digger said at last. “But if you need a good word, feel free to give my name.”

  That struck a chord deep inside Lon. “Thanks,” he managed to say. They ended their breakfast meeting and headed off toward the mine for the day.

  Hours later, Lon walked back into town alone. His conversation with Mercy the night before and his talk this morning with Digger had finally stirred him to action. He couldn’t let them persuade him to venture forth into paths that would bring failure to him and disappointment to them. His mind cleared. He wouldn’t delay. As soon as Digger no longer needed him, he would pack up and leave the next day. He walked through the swinging doors of the saloon and was hailed by the bartender.

  “Hi, Tom,” Lon greeted him and leaned against the bar.

  “I hear your job at the mine is almost over,” Tom said.

  Lon was amazed again how fast news spread through Idaho Bend. Someone must have been listening to his conversation at the café in the morning. “Digger’s getting back to work.”

  “You’ll be back again, then?” Tom looked at him sideways as he swabbed the bar with a wet cloth.

  Lon grinned. Tom’s tone told him the bartender didn’t expect him back. “Digger thinks I should change my line of work.”

  “Well, you know, what we need in town here is a bank.” Tom paused and looked at him.

  Lon burst out laughing. “You think I’ve got enough money to start up a bank?”

  “No, but you’re the kind of man who can go to Boise and maybe Portland and Seattle and get investors interested. It’s obvious you’re an educated man.”

  Lon shook his head, restraining the urge to reply sharply. “You have more confidence in me than I have in myself.”

  “That’s for sure,” said Sunny, whose shiny red dress could no longer hide her delicate condition. She walked up beside Lon. “Are you really going to marry Dr. Mercy?”

  Lon did a quick burn at the town’s infernal nosiness. “Dr. Gabriel is a fine lady. Any man would be proud to have her favor. But there’s been no talk of marriage.”

  “Well,” Tom said, “she’s not the kind of woman you can kiss without it meaning something.”

  “Thank you for explaining that to me,” Lon said, heading into the back room to collect his few possessions. Moments later, he walked out of the saloon with a wave. He couldn’t get away soon enough. This town was way too interested in him and the doctor.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of fire crackers going off nearby. Along with everyone else on the street, he turned and saw that it was coming from the alley behind Tarver’s store. Mercy’s office! He began to run, and others who obviously jumped to the same conclusion joined him.

  He arrived in front of her office and gaped at the simple one-word message soaped onto the window: LEAVE. A burned string lay before the door, the remnants of the firecrackers. Lon looked around, hoping Mercy was nowhere nearby. “Quick! Let’s get this wiped off—”

  Carrying her black bag, Mercy appeared in the alley and looked puzzled by the crowd of people clustered around her office door. Everyone parted, letting her pass. She halted at the door and stood very still.

  Lon watched her light complexion turn pink and then pale again. He clenched his fists, wanting to batter the culprit to a bloody mass. “I’ll get it off,” he muttered.

  She glanced at him, her face drawn and sad. “If thee please, I would be grateful.” Then she unlocked her door and went inside.

  Tarver bustled up with a buckle of water and a couple of rags. “I’ll help you wash it off. I wish I knew who was doing this. I’d like to box his ears.”

  After rolling up his sleeves, Lon accepted the wet rag and began washing the window. His intention to steer clear of the Quaker frustrated yet again. I intend to find out who’s doing this, and when I do, I’ll run the rat right out of town. Then I’ll go, too.

  Mercy sat in her office for a long time after the unpleasant word had been wiped away. She was fighting the urge to go home to her cabin and hide. Why did such opposition hit her much harder here? She had faced the same anger when she’d entered the nursing profession and worked with Clara Barton. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

  Indigo walked in. “I don’t want to cook this evening. Let’s go to the café for supper.”

  Mercy gazed at her daughter. Inside Mercy, unruly emotions clamored, insisting she go home to the cabin, shut the door and not face anyone for days. She forced herself to rise from her office chair. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

  Mercy turned down the wick in her oil lamp and blew out the flame. Then she donned her bonnet and wool cape. Outside, she slipped her arm through Indigo’s for the short walk to the cheery café.

  As soon as they entered, Mercy saw Lon sitting with Digger. This did not help Mercy’s mood. Still daunted or distressed somehow by the one-word message on her window, she tried not to glance his way, as if she were embarrassed that he’d had to help her in that way.

  Gossip about them was sweeping its way through town as it was. She would do nothing to add any fuel to it. The coffee in her cup rippled from the slight trembling in her hand. She pulled herself together and smiled at Indigo as they sat down.

  When the bell on the café door rang, Mercy looked up. Her spirits sank lower than she thought they could. No, Lord, not him, not now. Help. Blinking away tears, she murmured to Indigo, “Dr. Drinkwater has just walked in.”

  “Oh, no,” Indigo whispered.

  Mercy didn’t like the self-satisfied look on the doctor’s less-than-attractive face. The sheriff wasn’t with him. Instead, a lean man of medium height wearing a small brass star followed him inside. The two of them made their way to Mercy’s table. The other diners stopped speaking and the café grew quiet—only the sounds of the cook in the kitchen behind the dining room were audible. Mercy’s stomach clenched, but she kept her polite smile in place.

  When Dr. Drinkwater reached her table, he stepped aside. The other man stopped beside Indigo, pulled a paper out of his pocket and began reading, “Indigo Gabriel, I, Martin Blank, do arrest you for breaking the law of the Idaho Territory—”

  The rest of his words were drowned out by the exclamations from the other diners. Mercy’s mind had halted on the word arrest. She closed her eyes and prayed for strength and wisdom. Then, in the midst of the hubbub, Mercy rose, her heart beating fast.

  This quieted the café. She forced herself to stay outwardly calm. “Who are thee? Is thee trying to arrest my daughter? On what charge?”

  “I’m Territorial Deputy Martin Blank,” the man with the star replied. “The 1857 constitution prohibits new in-migration of Negroes, as well as making illegal their ownership of real estate and entering into contracts. They were also denied the right to sue in court. It’s all in Article 1, Section 35. Therefore, this warrant for the arrest of Indigo Gabriel was ordered by the Circuit Territorial Judge Chance Solomon.” The deputy looked up from the paper.

  “May I read that, please?” Mercy held out her hand.

  “See what I mean?” Dr. Drinkwater mocked her. “This woman thinks she’s the equal of a man.”

  Though she was tempted to lash out at him, Mercy stared hard into the doctor’s face and kept her hand out. She willed herself to hold on, give no quarter. Finally, the deputy handed her the paper. She read it and went colder inside. The warrant said exactly what he’d stated. “Idaho Territory has an exclusion law?”

  “Yes.” Dr. Drinkwater looked elated. “And if I have anything to say about it, we’ll add an amendment excluding quack women doctors.”

  “Well, if they had a law against quack male doctors, they’d run you out of the territory!” Ma Bailey announced. “You’re just jealous because Dr. Mercy’s a better doctor than you.” Many diners agreed to this loudly.

  Dr. Drinkwater’s face became mottled with red and white blotches, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak.

  Mercy han
ded the paper back to the deputy. “I believe that this exclusionary law is against the Constitution of the United States. The Thirteenth Amendment freed the slaves, and the Fourteenth Amendment enfranchised male Negroes. How is it possible to exclude American citizens from any territory?”

  “That’s not for me to say, ma’am,” the deputy replied, rolling the paper scroll-like. “It’s just my duty to arrest this woman and take her back to Boise for trial.”

  At this, the men in the café rose as one. Lon quickly covered the short distance to Mercy’s table. “We’re not letting you take Indigo out of this town,” Lon said.

  “Yes,” Digger, at Lon’s elbow, agreed. “If you have to arrest her, fine. But she’s staying here. The circuit judge will see to her case when he comes here next week.”

  Indigo edged around the table away from the deputy. Heartened by the men’s support, Mercy wrapped her arms around her daughter and glared at the two interlopers. Her heart was sending her blood out in strong waves and her face felt flushed. “Dr. Drinkwater, thee is a coward. Thee cannot drive me from the territory, so thee moves against my daughter.”

  “I told you, woman, I’d see you run out of the territory,” he blustered. “And you broke the law bringing this black girl into white territory.”

  “And I said we’re not letting you take this young woman from our town. You can arrest her and put her in Dr. Gabriel’s custody.” Lon spoke with stern authority in his voice. “Do I make myself clear?”

  The men in the room all drew out guns. Shock flashed through Mercy like chilled blood. “Please, I don’t want any violence.”

  “There isn’t going to be any,” Lon said, with steel in his voice. “We’ve all witnessed the serving of the arrest warrant. And we’ll all make sure this young woman is here when the circuit judge arrives. But Miss Indigo stays in Idaho Bend. We’re not letting you take her anywhere. She’s an innocent woman and we won’t allow it.”

  “That’s right,” Digger agreed. And the rest of the men in the café made their agreement loud and clear.

  Dr. Drinkwater looked ready to explode. The deputy gazed around, a shocked look on his face. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Okay, but remember, you’ll all be held responsible for this girl being here when the judge arrives.” He turned and marched out.

  Dr. Drinkwater sputtered words that weren’t intelligible, yet Mercy got his meaning, and anger heated her neck and face. “No, this isn’t over, Dr. Drinkwater. I won’t be bullied like this.”

  “Yeah,” Ma Bailey chimed in, “we aren’t impressed with you, Doc. Go back to Boise.”

  Gideon Drinkwater turned and marched out, slamming the door behind him and nearly dislodging the jingling bell.

  Applause broke out, but Mercy sank into her chair. Indigo sat back down, too, looking stunned and wounded.

  “Don’t let this upset you, ma’am,” Digger said. “No judge from Boise is going to tell us what to do.”

  Mercy tried to smile in response, but her attempt was less than successful. Many in town had accepted her as their doctor. These were the ones she had been able to treat and help. But the one-word message on her window proved that there were some who still wanted her to quit. What should she do about this charge against Indigo? What would be the outcome? Would she be forced to leave Idaho and start all over again somewhere else? Would she be forced to part from Lon, who had just come to the defense of her daughter in a way that had renewed her faith in his goodness?

  After they’d eaten the little they could with their spoiled appetites, Mercy and Indigo walked home through the chilling November wind. At home in Pennsylvania, the autumn would still be warmer and golden, but here the wind blew briskly. However, the scene at the café was chilling Mercy more than any wind. Neither of them was speaking. They finally reached their own door and hurried inside.

  For the first few moments, Indigo was busy stirring and feeding the glowing fire on the hearth and Mercy hung up their bonnets. Then they sat down, warming their feet by the fire.

  “Aunt Mercy, sometimes I just get so tired of it all.”

  Mercy knew what Indigo was talking about. I get tired, too, Lord.

  “Why does it always have to be about what color I am? Why can’t people just see me?”

  Mercy merely reached for Indigo’s hand and held it.

  “I know you didn’t like Pierre, but he saw me, not a black girl.”

  “You’re wrong. I liked Pierre. I just hoped he wouldn’t break your heart,” Mercy said, aching for her child.

  “How could he do that?”

  Mercy sighed and sank back against her chair. The warmth from the fire was beginning to thaw her physical cold, but had no power to melt the ice within her. “I guess I’m just especially watchful about you. You’re my only child. I want to keep you safe.”

  Indigo gazed into the fire. “What are we going to do? If the law says I can’t be in the Idaho Territory, how can I stay? And if I leave, how will Pierre find me? If he ever remembers me?” Indigo began to weep.

  Mercy got up and hugged her daughter. “If we have to go, we will leave word for Pierre as best we can. We have each other, daughter, and I will not give in so easily. I’ll telegraph Boise and hire a lawyer. You won’t go into court without legal counsel. This law is wrong and we must fight it.”

  “Why do we always have to fight things like this?” Indigo’s tone was plaintive. “Other people don’t.”

  “Other people don’t see things the way we do.” Mercy straightened, but rested a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “We believe men and women are equal in God’s sight and that God loves all tribes and nations equally. Since we refuse to agree to the popular way of thinking, we will always face opposition, here or elsewhere.”

  Indigo was wiping away her tears with her white handkerchief. “I don’t like it.”

  I don’t, either. “Indigo, this world is not our home. We’re just passing through.” Mercy spoke the words of a spiritual she’d heard slaves sing in the South during the war.

  But it’s hard, Lord, never fitting in. She thought of leaving Idaho, leaving her friends, leaving Lon Mackey. He’s still fighting You, Lord. Please look after him.

  As Mercy comforted her daughter, she steeled herself for the fight ahead. And for the possibility that she might lose Lon Mackey, just when she was starting to find him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Another busy day at the mine past, Lon stalked around Tarver’s storefront to the rear alley, his anger over Mercy’s unjust treatment still simmering. Light from the lamp shone out into the alley. Mercy was indeed in her office. Was she alone? He’d stayed away from her for the past twenty-four hours because he wanted to calm down before he spoke to her. But peace had not come near his reach. He had to talk some sense into her. Then maybe he’d calm down.

  The incident with the firecrackers and the soaped message on her office window, plus the scene in the café the night before, played over and over in his mind. He had said and done little of benefit to Mercy and Indigo in either uncomfortable situation.

  He must speak to her, reason with her. He must convince her that he had the solution to her problems. Anger had ridden him with its spurs for years now. If he persuaded Mercy, would his lightning-quick temper calm and recede? Would he once again be able to think and act with measured prudence?

  Lon approached the door and turned the knob. He stepped inside and felt the warmth from the Franklin stove in the corner of the small office. He had rarely seen Mercy like this in a private moment. She had taken off her bonnet and her soft hair fell around her shoulders. She sat at her desk, writing in her ledger. She looked up. “Lon, is something wrong?”

  The fact that her first thought was one not about her own troubles but one concerned for him blasted his self-control to shreds. He reached for her, lifted her from her chair and kissed her. For a moment, she clung to him, but then she tugged free. “Thee is kissing me again, Lon. Why?”

  Her hair gleamed, catching the gold
en lamplight. With one hand, he lifted a handful, letting it fall through his fingers—silken, enticing, irresistible.

  “Lon,” she scolded, “this is my office. Someone might see us.” She stepped back and tried to gather her hair into its usual knot at the nape of her neck, blushing and looking delightfully flustered. How could he not want this woman in his life?

  “I’ve decided that we should marry.” He blurted out the unexpected and audacious words in the most blunt, unromantic manner possible. He cursed his clumsiness. What am I saying?

  She gaped at him, her lips parted in shock.

  That sparked his irritation anew. “Don’t look so surprised. Do you think I go about kissing women indiscriminately? You are the one woman in this world I trust, the one woman in this world I must care about.”

  She stumbled down in her chair, facing him. “Lon, thee does not sound very confident of thy feelings for me. Thee ‘must’ care about me? That does not convince me. What has caused thee to propose marriage to me?”

  “Why do you always have to talk everything to death?” He began pacing. Voicing the proposal fired his determination. He would never be free until he and Mercy left this town behind them. “I want to marry you. I know that you’ll be faithful and honest.”

  “I do not talk things to death.” She continued fiddling with her hair.

  His fingers twitched, urging him to reach again for her hair, to let it flow over his palm. He grimaced at himself. I must concentrate and convince her.

  “I only speak when there is something I must communicate or learn,” Mercy said. “If thee cannot tell me plainly why thee wants to marry me, I cannot marry thee.”

  He turned his back to her and continued pacing in the space near the door. The small office felt like a box. “I want to go to California.” These words shocked him. But his mind was suddenly very clear. “I want to marry you and then the three of us will go to California.”

  “Why?”

  Her incredulous tone jabbed him. He turned to glare at her. Why didn’t she understand what was going on here? “Because you aren’t wanted here, that’s why. That Boise doctor is not going to stop bothering you till you leave the territory. So let’s go. There will be sick people in California who need you, too.” How could she argue with that?