That Certain Spark

by Cathy Marie Hake

  Suddenly pale, Taylor sighed. “If you insist. I want to ask Lloyd one simple question. Will you all agree to remain quiet?”

  “Just that one question?”

  When they agreed, Taylor’s shoulders rose and fell as she steeled herself with a deep breath. “Lloyd, what color shirt am I wearing?”

  “Red.”

  Her hand covered her mouth and her head dipped as a pained sound curled in her chest. Sheltering her against himself, Karl bit out, “Green. Her shirtwaist is as green as her beautiful eyes. Don’t take my word for it. Ask any of these others. They can tell you.”

  “What’s all this nonsense about color for?” Smith asked, standing by his son.

  Enoch put all the pieces together. “The inability to distinguish between red and green is a medical problem for a very select number of males. It’s called color blindness and is inherited.”

  “Can’t be. None of my kin nor Daisy’s—”

  Lloyd turned on Smith. “I’m not your son. Grandma dragged me out here, but you’re no kin of mine.”

  Grief over losing Lila had already carved lines in Smith’s face. Betrayal now twisted it into a mask of pain.

  “Karl, he couldn’t have done this alone.” Taylor looked into Karl’s eyes and could see that he, too, was putting all the pieces together.

  “I know. I also know you wish me to walk you over there so you can be in the midst of this discussion.”

  “Because you know I’m going no matter what, and we belong together,” she told him.

  He groaned, “Of all times, you pick now to tell me we belong together, when I cannot be joyful?”

  She squeezed his hand. “ ‘Come to me. Come to me, good or bad, right or wrong, day or night.’ She repeated exactly what he’d said to her last night. “We have the good and right. Let’s face the bad and wrong.”

  Lloyd was getting an earful from White about how ungrateful he was for all Smith had done. When he and Taylor walked up, Karl saw no trace of worry on the boy’s face. “The doctor has something even more important to say,” Karl told them.

  “Nothing’s more important!” came at him like a chorus from all the men.

  Taylor ignored them. “Lloyd, didn’t you realize when you mixed the medications that it could be deadly?”

  “No, it couldn’t.”

  “How could you be sure?”

  “Hold on here a minute.” Smith grabbed Lloyd by the collar. “What’s this about mixing medicines?”

  Karl wasn’t about to let Lloyd get a chance to wiggle out of any responsibility. “He mixed the medications in the doctor’s jars. Only he couldn’t tell the difference between the red and the green—and that is how he just gave himself away.”

  “But what made you certain the mixtures weren’t dangerous?” Taylor persisted. “They were. Depending on the disease and dosage, it could have been deadly.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. He told me—”

  “Who told you?” Smith gave the kid a good shake. “You mixed up drugs? Someone tells you to do something so stupid and you just do it?”

  “You’re making me quit school! That’s stupid! All you care about is having me help with the farm.”

  Taylor reached out. “Lloyd, just as you were blind to color, you were blind to how someone was using you—”

  “He’s not using me. He’s teaching me! I’m going to be a doctor just like my dad was.”

  Karl said, “Doc Wicky.”

  “Doc Wicky?” Smith dumped the boy. “That quack?”

  “You’ve cast your lot with a charlatan we ran out of town?”

  Folding his arms across his chest, Lloyd sassed, “You really didn’t run him out of town after all, did you? We made a plan. Soon as you figured out the new doctor wasn’t any good, you’d ask Doc Wicky back. Then I could be his apprentice.”

  “Wicky’s an idiot.” White spat. “We wouldn’t take him back no matter what.”

  “He’s smarter than all of you. We almost made her leave on her own. You shoulda just stayed outta it. Doc and me, we were doing you all a big favor. See? Toldja he’s smart!”

  “Sure he’s smart,” Karl agreed in a carefully leashed voice. “He had a thirteen-year-old do all of his dirty work. What did it cost him?” Karl noted how the boy’s coloring changed slightly. “He paid you nothing but empty promises. He would teach you to be a fine physician as your father was. How could Wicky do such a thing when he is a failure when it comes to medicine? Now you’re the one in trouble. You did the wrongs—and he did nothing.”

  “Yes he did!” Lloyd broke out in a cold sweat. “Orville traded him—all those machines for a key to the mercantile.”

  “Orville sold the mercantile to Dan,” Piet said loud enough for both Taylor and Enoch to hear.

  “Things have gone missing,” Dan said.

  “Yeah. And he has a key. To her house.” The kid pointed at Taylor.

  Everything within Karl revolted at that revelation, yet he acted completely controlled. His woman needed him to be calm for her.

  “Those books—the big medical books—he stole them. And I only put dirt and worms in a drawer once—he did it the first time. It wasn’t nothing a woman couldn’t wash up. That’s what she is, anyhow. Nothin’ but a woman with biggety ideas.” Lloyd twisted around and craned his neck up toward Smith. “Ain’t that right, Dad? That’s what you’re always saying. Fit for washin’ and scrubbin’.”

  “So now he is your father again?” White mocked.

  “Keep your nose outta this. It ain’t your business.” Smith looked around. “Go on. All of you.”

  “I’m staying with my foals.” Valmer headed toward the stall. “Piet, they’re going to be tied up. I’d be obliged if you’d come keep an eye on them with me for a while.”

  Karl nodded curtly to his brother. Whether Piet needed to remain for the sake of the animals didn’t matter. He’d still be there as backup. Karl didn’t have his gun; Smith did.

  “The boy did wrong. Smith’ll handle it on his own.” Cutter bent his arms akimbo. “That still doesn’t change the facts. A woman doctor isn’t right. She’s almost out of time, and she still needs to get twenty-one names on her list.”

  “Twenty-one!” Taylor shook her head. “Ten.”

  One of Cutter’s cronies gave him a baffled look. “Pastor Bradle told me yesterday there were ninety on it.”

  “Ah,” the mayor stretched out the syllable with relish. “But that was when Gooding only had a hundred twenty-five citizens, so one hundred was eighty percent. Now with those new families moving here and the babies being born, we have a hundred thirty-nine. Eighty percent is a hundred eleven.”

  “You said a hundred.” Karl clenched his fists and fought to keep them at his sides. “Nothing about any percents. A hundred stands.”

  “No one asked you,” White snapped.

  “Honor,” Smith said heavily, “is built over a life and can be lost in a moment. Lloyd is learning that lesson today. He and Doc Wicky did wrong. More than enough wrongs have been done. I’m not going to be party of changing rules and playing dirty. The doctor was told a hundred, and it should stay at a hundred.”

  Resting his hands on Taylor’s shoulders, Karl looked at all the men. “Lloyd needs us all to be Christian examples. Narrow is the path, but we can light the way. We must be men of integrity and fairness.”

  Heads nodded and mumbled agreement echoed in the barn.

  Lloyd looked at Taylor and mumbled, “Sorry.”

  “Sorry means you also try to make it right.” Karl waited. When the boy said nothing, he prodded, “To make this right, you must also tell us how to find Wicky.”

  “Before he does, I have to make a confession.” Mr. Smith swallowed hard. “Pride cost me my Lila. It’s nearly cost me my . . . boy.” He rested his hand on Lloyd’s shoulder. “I judged Dr. Bestman and resented her. Those two actions were sins. But me disparaging her—it sowed seeds of discord. Like a fool, I watered and tended them u
ntil I reaped a crop of death and destruction in my family. Doctor, you need ten names on your list? Daisy and me and Grandma are three, and I got me . . .” He stumbled on what number to give. “I got me a passel of kids.” He clenched Lloyd’s shoulder in a possessive move. “You put us on that roster.”

  “Me and my missus, too,” someone else said.

  Three more men also pledged their families.

  Karl let out a victorious whoop and spun Taylor around. “Abundantly above all that we ask or think.”

  “Yes,” she agreed breathlessly. It’s even over Mr. Cutter’s new figure.”

  “It is, and for that I’m grateful.” Karl looked at her and his voice dropped. “But you, my Taylor. You are abundantly above all I could ask or think.”

  “Come with me,” Karl said later that evening after the men had returned from what they euphemistically referred to as a “successful trapping trip,” where they caught “one prime hide.” She slid her hand into his large palm and appreciated the way he enveloped it with a heart-stopping blend of gentleness and possessiveness. He led her into the smithy.

  “It’s pitch black in here!”

  “Depend on me. I know the way. Sometimes to see the light, you have to be patient.”

  Taylor laughed. “I’m not the patient type. I’m the doctor type.”

  He led her on, and she trusted him to get her through the opening toward the forge, since they were headed in that direction. He stopped and searched for something. “Ja. So this was you. And this was me.” He put two hard objects in her hands.

  “They’re cold . . . hard . . . one’s almost smooth and the other’s jagged.”

  He took them back. “You are the smooth one. I’m as rough as they come.”

  “Not rough. Rugged. There’s a vast difference.”

  He made a pleased sound. “And so there was you and there was me. We bumped into each other. We jostled in the buggy. But then, something changed. I put myself back into the Master’s hands. Then . . .” He struck the objects, and sparks flew.

  “Flint and iron!”

  “With God all things are possible. He provided Mrs. O’Toole as a housekeeper before you ever came here. He gave us Enoch and Mercy to be baby-sitters whenever the need arises. Most of all, He gave us one another.” In the dark, Karl moved yet again. “That is the tinder. Do you like that? Tender. For you and me. That is how I feel for you. Now one more strike.” A spark hit some tinder and a wisp of smoke rose. They both bent to blow on it together. “That was the one. That certain spark—only in us, it will be a spark that will stay bright for years to come.”

  Resting her cheek against his, Taylor whispered, “You’re a poet at heart. Don’t ever call yourself rough again.”

  As the flame started, they rose and fed it. “I love you, Dr. Taylor MacLay Bestman. Come with me through the years. Whatever God has in store, I want you by my side.” He took her left hand in his and started to move.

  “No, Karl.”

  “Taylor—” Anguish the likes of which she’d never heard echoed in his voice.

  “Karl! Oh, no!” She threw her arms around him. “You were going to kneel, weren’t you?”

  “Ja, that is the proper—”

  “This is what I think about proper.” She slid her arms upward, daring to have her hands meet behind his neck, went up on her toes, and grazed a kiss on his jaw.

  Karl gave her a wry look. “Since when did you do things halfway?”

  “I have to! There’s something I have to say first.” Her heart nearly beat out of her chest as she looked up at him. “I love you, Karl. Why would I want you kneeling down in the dirt when there’s no place I’d rather be than by your side or in your arms?”

  A sound of exaltation rumbled out of him as he wrapped his arms about her in a never-let-you-go embrace, and then he kissed her with the promise of a fiery future.

  CATHY MARIE HAKE is a nurse who specializes in teaching Lamaze, breastfeeding, and baby care. She loves reading, scrap-booking, and writing, and is the author or coauthor of more than twenty-five books. Cathy makes her home in Anaheim, California, with her husband, daughter, and son.

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