Her mother’s embrace reminded Deborah of being a young child again—a child that held no responsibility or worry.
O God, she prayed, holding fast to her mother, would that I could trust you like a little child. Would that I could let go of my worry and fear and trust that you will hold me.
April 1887
Christopher glanced at the clock. It was still early, but not unreasonable for a house call. He wanted to let Zed Perkins know what was happening and why he was suddenly leaving again.
He made his way through the quiet streets. Perkinsville was hardly more than a ghost town now. Most of the families had moved on, for there was no sense in waiting around, hoping that the mill would be rebuilt. There were mouths to feed and children to clothe, and those things couldn’t be done with hopes.
The unnatural silence only seemed magnified by the clear skies and clean air. When Christopher had first arrived, the mill smoke and dust put so much debris into the air that he was hesitant to even open the windows in his home and clinic. Now that was gone, but at what cost?
He made his way up the walk to Zed’s house, stifling a yawn. He’d not slept much at all the night before, fears overwhelming his thoughts. Whatever had happened must be grave, or his mother would surely have sent word herself. Still, uncertainty baffled him and burdened him with a sense of dread. This, coupled with the postponement of his wedding, had left him unable to sleep.
Knocking on the door of Perkinsville’s finest two-story house, Christopher was surprised when Zed himself opened the door. Apparently they had let their hired housekeeper go.
“You’re just the man I wanted to see,” Christopher declared, extending his hand.
Zed waved off the formality. “None of that. Come on in and have some coffee with me. Better yet, have you eaten breakfast yet?”
“No, I didn’t want to heat up the stove.”
“Then we’ll just head back to the kitchen. I was finishing up, but there’s plenty left.”
They made their way into the tastefully appointed house. Christopher caught the sound of female voices arguing from one of the rooms as they passed. Zed led him to the kitchen and motioned him inside before offering an explanation.
“I’m afraid my daughters have it in their mind that we should move to Houston. They have been pleading their case to Mrs. Perkins.”
Christopher could well imagine the spoiled Maybelle and Annabeth nagging their mother. Around town, those two were known to get their own way in most every matter, but perhaps this time would prove the exception.
“What brings you here today?” Zed asked. “Have a seat,” he said as he pointed. “I’ll grab you a plate and silver.” He went quickly to the task and plopped the utensils in front of Christopher. “This is one of Mrs. Perkins’s everyday dishes. She’ll chide me for not breaking out the good china and serving you in the dining room, but I figure you won’t mind.” He put the plain white plate in front of the doctor and added, “Now help yourself to the food.”
Taking up a platter of bacon, Christopher chose several pieces. Zed left him to fill his plate while he fetched a mug for coffee.
“We’ve got cream if you need it.” Zed put the cup in front of Christopher and waited for him to comment.
“No, black is fine. This is really far more than I expected. I certainly didn’t mean to impose.”
Zed laughed and took his seat. “No imposition. It’s always good to have the company of another rooster—especially when the hens are raising a squawk.” He shook his head as one of his daughters protested loudly. “Those girls are spoiled by my own hand, and now I’m paying the price.”
Christopher waited until Zed had a long drink of his coffee before replying. “I’m going to get right to it. I’ve had bad news from my family in Kansas City. I don’t know much other than what the telegram told me, and that was only that tragedy had occurred and I was needed.” He sipped the strong black brew and let the warmth steady him. “I’m leaving when the train comes through, and I felt you should know.”
Zed put his own cup aside. “I’m sorry to hear about your family, Doc. I wish I could offer some sort of assistance. I feel bad that you’ve gone without wages the last two months.”
“It couldn’t be helped. You were good to keep me paid long after the mill fire. That and the money I’ve earned by riding around to the various folks in need of a doctor’s skills have kept me well enough.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but Christopher didn’t want the older man bearing the guilt of what he couldn’t help.
Christopher sampled a mouthful of cheese grits and reached for the salt. He seasoned the grits as well as the eggs before continuing. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
Zed slathered butter on a piece of corn bread. “You were right to alert me. Knowing Albright, if he sees that you’ve gone, he’ll either take over the clinic or sell off the furnishings.”
“Albright had me inventory everything that belonged to the company. I gave him that information the day before yesterday. It came later than he wanted, but I got called out on an emergency before I could finish it.” He took a long drink, then gazed into the cup. “I figure it’s just a matter of time before Albright demands I vacate the house anyway.”
“Not as long as I have any say!” Zed sounded quite angry, but he quickly sobered. “Although, to be honest, I have little leverage anymore. I never figured to find myself in such a predicament. Never thought the day would come when I wouldn’t be my own boss.”
They ate in silence for a few moments. Christopher felt sorry for the older man. To have a younger man—an Easterner, at that—sweep in and deplete you of your livelihood and all you held dear would be humiliating and heartbreaking. The town of Perkinsville was only a shadow of its former glory. At one point, the town was growing fast enough to rival nearby Lufkin. Funny how things had changed overnight. Life was ever-changing, and property and possessions were easily destroyed. Since the devastating fire, the few who remained were mostly black families that had no choice but to stay and try their best to survive. If you could call it that.
A handful of white families remained, but it seemed they had plans to leave soon enough. The Huebners would go since there was no money to pay a schoolmaster. Mrs. O’Neal had already made known her plans to leave. The Wolcotts, Greeleys, and Shattucks remained in town, along with Mr. Perkins and his family, but most of the other residents had moved on. Mr. Perkins’s sons had even relocated to other cities. It was really no wonder his daughters wanted to do likewise.
“Has Albright or Longstreet given any indication as to what they plan to do?” Christopher finally asked, pushing away the empty plate.
Zed shrugged. “They claim they will let me know when they have decided. They aren’t even askin’ for my opinion. I curse the day I ever took on a partner, much less two. If I hadn’t gotten it in my head to expand, I wouldn’t be in this position.”
“I can’t imagine that it’s financially advantageous for them to do nothing,” Christopher countered. “I suppose Albright could have felt the need to delay due to the bad winter. The plains states were devastated with the snows and cold weather. I read that hundreds of thousands of cattle and other livestock were lost. My guess is that buying extra building supplies isn’t a luxury most can afford.”
“That was just his excuse,” Zed said, scowling. “Most of our buyers were back East.” His expression changed almost instantly. “Say, what’s this going to do to your wedding plans?”
“We’re having to postpone. I spoke briefly to the pastor, and of course went out to see Deborah yesterday. She understands my need to go, although we both wish I could do otherwise. If only I knew the degree of the tragedy and whether or not a day or two would make a difference, I might simply stay until after the ceremony.”
Zed nodded thoughtfully and rubbed his chin. “Well, these things have a way of workin’ themselves out. I certainly didn’t mean to burden you with my own troubles.”
“Nonsense. Your
troubles affect the entire community.” Christopher placed a hand on Zed’s shoulder. “I can well understand your concerns. You’re a good man, and you care about your neighbors.”
“Those folks trusted me for employment, and now that’s been taken away. And for what? Albright somehow got the insurance company to agree it was an ‘act of God.’ The mill supposedly caught fire from a lightning strike, but I know different. That fire started from the inside. Someone set it—of that, I’m certain.”
“I suppose without witnesses to say otherwise, money talked for Albright. He could have even offered to cut the investigator in on the deal.” Christopher put his cup aside. “Well, I should head back to my place. Jude Greeley arranged for someone to send him a telegram when the train pulls out of Burke so that I can be ready. I told him I’d be at home. Thanks again for breakfast, and I’d appreciate it if you would keep Albright from throwing my things into the street.”
“You have my word on it,” Zed replied.
The two men got to their feet just as someone went wailing down the hall. Apparently one of the girls was quite distraught. Christopher turned to Zed with a hint of a smile. “If you need to stay at my place, feel free.”
The older man laughed and slapped the doctor’s back. “I just might take you up on that.”
They were nearly to the door when Mrs. Perkins stepped into the hall. “Doctor Clayton—I mean, Kelleher. Goodness, but it will be hard to get used to that. Why you ever thought we would hold being Irish against you is beyond me.”
Christopher gave her a slight bow. “I apologize for that, ma’am. It wasn’t so much you and the folks of Perkinsville that concerned me. It was my decision long ago when I went east to medical school. However, you feel free to call me whatever you like.”
“Oh, pshaw.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “I’m the one who must apologize. If I’d known we had a guest, I would have put an end to the girls’ fussing much sooner.”
“Think nothing of it,” Christopher replied. “But as I told your husband, I must be going.”
“Oh, surely not. You should stay for breakfast.”
“I’ve already fed him, Mrs. Perkins.” Zed put his arm around her waist. “You have no need to fret.”
“Indeed he did, and I must say, it was all quite delicious.”
She smiled. “Well, you are welcome to stay and visit anyway.”
Christopher shook his head and opened the front door. “I’m afraid I can’t. Zed can tell you about my situation, but I thank you for the invitation.” The last thing he wanted to do was spend additional time trying to explain.
“Do come back soon,” Mrs. Perkins declared as she and Zed followed him out onto the porch. “You know you don’t have to wait for an invitation.”
“Thank you.” Christopher made his way from the porch and had just started down the street when he caught sight of Pastor Shattuck.
“Good morning, Christopher. Do you still intend to leave today?”
Christopher nodded. “Just waiting for the train.”
“Looks like you’ll have a decent day for travel,” the older man said as he looked upward. Overhead, the blue skies were void of clouds. “Hopefully the rain will hold off until you make it back.”
“I hope so. What with the winter melt, I was told some of the tracks in the north are washed out and won’t be repaired for some time to come. Hopefully it won’t interfere with the line to Kansas City.”
They climbed the steps to his porch and Christopher motioned. “Would you like to sit?”
“I would,” Pastor Shattuck said, easing into one of the chairs. “I couldn’t help but feel the need to come and just encourage you. I know this has been a difficult choice to make.”
Christopher frowned. He never really felt there was a choice in the matter. He supposed there was, however. He could have refused to postpone the wedding in order to head north. Did it make him less worthy of Deborah that he didn’t?
“Do you think I’m making a mistake?”
The pastor considered the question for a moment. “It doesn’t really matter what I think. How did your bride-to-be take the news?”
Deborah’s disappointed expression came to mind. “She understood, but I could tell she wasn’t happy. What bride would be? They’ve all gone to so much work to arrange this wedding.”
“And you think that’s all she’d be worried about?” He threw Christopher a grin. “If you say yes, then I’m not gonna marry the two of you when you get back.”
Christopher shook his head. “Of course that’s not the only issue. I know Deborah loves me. I love her, too.” He took the chair beside Brother Shattuck. “Did I do the wrong thing?”
“What do you mean?”
“All of my life I’ve had to be responsible for my loved ones. I was the firstborn and had to grow up quickly. It was impressed upon me that family came first—that my loyalty to them was a mark of my manhood. When I got the telegram, I never considered doing anything but going to them. Now I’m wondering if that was wrong. If I’ve somehow betrayed my love for Deborah.”
“You’re a good man, Doc. I can’t fault you for caring about your folks. The delay is unfortunate. I suppose you two could have wed and she could have gone with you to help. There are always other alternatives.”
“Maybe I’m not the man Deborah needs me to be.” The thought troubled Christopher more than he cared to admit. He hadn’t given her feelings nearly the consideration that he should have. Being a husband would be quite different than being a single man who watched over his mother’s and father’s needs.
“Well, the Word does say that you are to cleave unto your wife. Now, I realize you aren’t married just yet, but that is something to consider. If you can’t separate yourself from your mother and father, you won’t be honoring the vows you make before God. Your wife must come first—not your mother and father. That doesn’t mean you don’t go on honoring them or caring about them.”
“And if I can’t put her first, then I shouldn’t take a wife.” Christopher stated matter-of-factly.
Brother Shattuck nodded. “That’s about the size of it. Husbands are admonished to love their wives as Christ loved the church. He died for the church—for us. His heart wasn’t divided.”
Is my heart divided?
Christopher gave a heavy sigh. “I feel like I’m making a mistake, but I don’t know what else to do. It’s not like I can pick up one of those new telephones and call to see what the problem is.”
The pastor smiled. “Those things surely are somethin’ else, aren’t they? I heard tell there are over a hundred thousand folks with telephones. I suppose someday everyone will have one, though I can’t imagine they will ever take the place of speaking face-to-face.”
“Neither can I,” Christopher agreed. “Still, such a thing would certainly make occasions like this much easier.”
“If it’s any consolation,” the pastor told him, “I’ve been praying for you through the night. I knew your heart was troubled, but you can trust God to direct your steps.”
“I fear what awaits me,” Christopher said, turning to the older man. “I feel like a coward.”
“A coward wouldn’t head into the heat of the battle. It’s only natural that the unknown should offer some concerns, but you needn’t let that build into fear. The Lord has promised to be with you wherever you go. He won’t abandon you to face this on your own. I want you to know that I’ll be praying for you while you’re gone.”
“The Vandermarks said they would do likewise,” he admitted. “I can’t say that I won’t be thoroughly prayed over.”
“Doc!” Jude Greeley called as he bounded down the street from the commissary. “Train’s just left Rhodes.” He stopped and shook his head. “No, I mean Burke. I can’t get used to them changing the town’s name. I mean, why was that necessary? Oh, and there’s a rumor that they’re getting a Farmer’s Alliance store.” He smiled and waved a piece of paper in the air. “But I digress. I got th
e telegram just now. You’d best get on out to the main track. They’ll do little more than slow down for you.”
Christopher got to his feet, as did Pastor Shattuck. “Well, I suppose I should make haste. I wouldn’t want to make the train wait on my account.”
Jude laughed. “Train makes everyone else wait on its account.” He turned and headed back down the dirt street. “Gotta get back. The missus hates it when I leave her in charge.”
“I’ll take my leave, too,” Pastor Shattuck said. His expression softened with compassion. “There’s no way of knowing at this point what you’ll face in Kansas City, but you need to remember you won’t face it alone.”
Christopher drew strength from the words and stood a little taller. “I know you’re right. I’ll remind myself of that at every turn.”
But deep within there was a nagging sensation that, in spite of the prayers and the knowledge that God would be at his side, Christopher was about to fall into a dark abyss—an abyss that promised to consume him, body and soul.
G. W. Vandermark tied his horse to the hitching post outside the house Stuart Albright had taken for himself. The nervous bay sidestepped—almost sending G.W. to the ground—and he winced in pain. His leg injury was good to remind him of how quickly life could change. Who could tell? Maybe there would be another change after his discussion with Albright. The important thing was to keep a tight rein on his temper.
After regaining his footing, he stroked the horse’s mane. “Easy, boy. There’s no sense in either of us gettin’ our head up.”
Drawing a deep breath, G.W. gave the horse another couple of pats, then made his way to the door. He knocked and, while he waited, rubbed the tops of his boots on the back of his trouser legs just in case any dirt clung to them. No sense appearing shoddy.
A young Negro woman dressed in a simple black gown and white apron opened the door and smiled. “Mornin’, Mr. Vandermark.”
“Mornin’, Essie. I’m here to see Mr. Albright. Is he in?”
Hope Rekindled Page 3
