Embers of Love (29 page)

“Afternoon, Miz Vandermark,” one of the women greeted.

Deborah heard her mother respond and ask after Miriam Davis. She was surprised when Dr. Clayton came from the house. He spoke momentarily to one of the women before spying her. He gave a brief wave and made his way to where she stood.

“Is someone ill?”

He nodded. “Mrs. Davis. She was expecting another baby, but sadly, she lost it. Poor woman was hysterical. I gave her something to make her sleep.”

“First Samuel, and then a child.” Deborah looked toward the house and thought of the family that lived there. She knew what it was to lose a father – the void could never be filled. She turned back to find Dr. Clayton watching her with such intensity that it caused her to tremble. “We . . . ah . . .” She waved her hand over the end of the wagon. “Mother wanted to bring the family some supplies.”

“I’ll help you carry them inside,” he said.

Mother joined them. “Dr. Clayton, how good to see you. I hear that Miriam has suffered a miscarriage. Is she going to be all right?”

The doctor lifted a box of canned goods. “I believe she’ll make a physical recovery, but she is devastated over the losses she’s suffered. I was just telling Miss Vandermark that I gave Miriam something to help her sleep.”

“That’s for the best, I’m sure,” Mother replied. “Is it all right if I go inside and speak with her sister?”

“Of course.”

Mother led the way, while Deborah and Dr. Clayton followed behind with their loads. Inside, the cabin smelled of pork grease, tobacco, and death. In the corner, an old black woman sat and puffed on a pipe while keeping watch over Samuel Davis’s body. Deborah nodded to the woman as they passed by.

Placing the box on the rickety dining table, Deborah took a moment to look around the cabin. It was terribly small – hardly big enough for one, much less four. The furnishings were mostly homemade and poorly constructed.

Miriam’s sister Ruby came from the back room. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she bowed her head as Deborah’s mother took hold of her arm and spoke in a low, comforting voice.

“Ruby, we’ve brought some canned goods, cornmeal, sugar, and a couple of hams. I wanted to make sure the family had plenty to eat during this sad time.”

“Oh, Miz Vandermark, what we gonna do without Samuel?”

“Don’t fret. Now isn’t the time. Miriam needs you to be strong for her.” The younger woman nodded and began to sob as Mother embraced her.

“Why don’t you take me to Miriam,” Mother said, drawing Ruby with her toward the bedroom. “I know she’s sleepin’, but I just want to look in on her.”

“I’ll get the other boxes,” Dr. Clayton told Deborah in a whisper.

Several of the women who’d been outside came in and gathered round the old woman. Deborah felt uneasy, almost like an intruder as a couple of the women began to wail. “I’ll go with you.”

He nodded and allowed her to go through the door first. Once outside, Deborah drew a deep breath of the fresh air and looked to Dr. Clayton. “Thank you for your help. If you need to get back, however, I can manage.”

“Nonsense. I don’t mind at all. In fact, I can get these last two boxes. Why don’t you just wait here.” It was more a command than a question. He hoisted one box on top of the other and headed back into the house.

Deborah leaned against the wagon bed and cast a quick glance around the yard. The children were still playing in the dirt, avoiding the awkward sorrow inside. The two Davis children, Jonathan and Saul, were among them. She thought to go and speak with them, but Dr. Clayton was returning.

“Thanks again,” she told him. He smiled and she felt her stomach give a flip. The feeling took her by surprise.
What in the world is
wrong with me?
She struggled for a moment to think of something to say.

Blurting out the first thing that came to mind, Deborah tried hard to push aside her discomfort. “Do you have any idea how we might trap wild hogs?”

Dr. Clayton looked at her oddly for a moment, stroking his chin as if truly considering the question. “I can’t say that I’ve ever had to deal with wild hogs.” His brows rose as he cocked his head to one side. “I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who wanted to trap a wild hog . . . until now.”

Deborah looked to the ground. “I suppose it’s just been on my mind. We’re having trouble with the razorbacks eating the young pines. We were just talking about it and looking for ways to deal with them.”

“What about fencing off your land?”

“No, that won’t work. It’s too expensive for one thing, but for another, folks around here despise fences. They want their cattle to graze freely. Fencing the land would only make enemies, and in time, folks would simply pull the fences down.”

“I see. And I suppose you couldn’t just fence small areas of these young trees? Maybe even around each small tree?”

“I suppose it’s a thought,” Deborah replied. “Very labor intensive, but possible. We talked about traps, but of course, with other animals moving through the area, it’s too dangerous.”

“That makes sense, but what of creating some sort of trap that would allow only something the size of the rooters to enter? Fix it in such a way that they couldn’t get back out once they were inside. It would only contain them, not harm them.”

“Is there such a trap?”

“I believe so. Your brothers are handy with tools – they might even build one of their own.”

Deborah heard her mother’s voice and turned to see her coming from the house. Mother reached out to take Dr. Clayton’s hand. “Thank you for helping Deborah with the boxes.”

Dr. Clayton put his hand over Mother’s. “It wasn’t a problem at all. Are you doing well? You look a bit tired.”

“I am. This grief has kept me from sleeping at night.”

“I could give you something to help,” he offered.

She shook her head. “No, I use the time to pray. I figure if the good Lord wants me to sleep, He’ll bring it about.” She smiled and patted his arm. “I hoped that we might meet up with you while in town. I wanted to invite you to join us for supper tonight. Can you make it?”

“I believe I can.” He looked at Deborah. “Perhaps we can talk to your brothers about building those pens.”

Mother glanced to Deborah and then back to Dr. Clayton. “Pens?”

“For the rooters,” Deborah explained. “Dr. Clayton has an idea of trapping them in a pen – something only big enough for them.”

“And even if it caught other animals, it wouldn’t harm them. Of course, the rooters might if they got inside with them. It’s not without its dangers.”

“We can discuss it over supper,” Mother said. “I think Arjan would like to hear your ideas.”

–––––––

Christopher eased back from the Vandermark table and patted his stomach. “I must say, of all the folks who’ve blessed me with a meal, you offer the best. Just don’t let it get around, or I might have to go back to cooking for myself.”

“No, we’d simply have to have you here for supper every night,” Mrs. Vandermark declared.

Christopher glanced across the table at Deborah. She was beginning to captivate his thoughts in a most unexpected way. Several times a day, she would come to mind. He tried to tell himself that it was only because of her interest in medicine and how he thought she should be trained as a physician. But he knew better. It wouldn’t be hard to lose his heart to her. Perhaps he already had.

“Doctor?”

He looked at Mrs. Vandermark in surprise. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking of other things. The meal was incredible. I’ve never had such delicious pecan pie. I’d love to send my mother the recipe. It’s not as heavily sweet as the one she makes. I actually prefer it.”

“I’d be happy to send her the recipe. It’s one I brought with me when I moved to Texas. It goes way back in our family. Speaking of which, I don’t believe I know much about your family. You came here from Kansas City, is that correct?”

Christopher drew a deep breath and nodded. “I did. My mother and father live there still with five of the children at home.”

“That’s right. I seem to recall there were fifteen children in your family.”

“Yes. I’m the oldest.”

“Goodness, but I can’t imagine how your mother could even get through the day.”

Laughing, Christopher easily remembered those times. “She is extremely efficient – much like you, Mrs. Vandermark. I have no doubt you’d handle it in easy order.”

“You are sweet to say so,” she replied. “Why don’t you and the boys go discuss buildin’ the pens now? Deborah can bring you more coffee.”

Rob got to his feet. “I think Dr. Clayton’s idea is a good one. I already have some ideas about how we can do it.”

Christopher thought to excuse himself from the gathering, but a part of him didn’t want to leave. He had come to enjoy this family. They reminded him of home and of all that he was working for. His gaze settled on Deborah once again. He was treading dangerous waters. He’d come here with one purpose – to make money for his family. He needed to keep to his plan.

C
HAPTER
26

N
OVEMBER
1885

“I hope these traps work,” Rob told G. W. as they secured the last of the makeshift pens. They pounded stakes to fix it to the ground, then adjusted the door.

“Should do just fine, long as the rooters go for the bait.”

Rob pulled out a bucket of slop and poured it inside the pen. “Can’t imagine them passing up a treat like this.” He laughed and threw the bucket into the back of the wagon. “That makes six pens. Guess we’ll see what happens in the mornin’.”

Decatur and Jasper looked up from where they’d been lazing under a tall pine. At the sight of the boys loading their tools into the wagon, the two hounds got to their feet and stretched. The sun had dropped below the trees, and the damp air took on a chill that made everyone long for the warmth of home.

“So who you gonna take to the Christmas dance?” G. W. asked his brother. They climbed onto the wagon seat, and G. W. picked up the reins.

“Haven’t decided if I’m takin’ anybody. You take someone, then you gotta dance with them most of the night. I ain’t got my fix on one gal just yet, so I may not ask anyone.”

“That’s gonna break many a heart,” G. W. said, laughing. He reached for the brake as Decatur got wind of something and bounded off in the opposite direction, barking. Jasper followed suit.

“Guess they got the scent of a rabbit,” Rob suggested.

“Rabbit stew would be a nice change of pace. What say we put off headin’ home for a bit and follow after ’em?”

Rob nodded and grabbed his rifle. “Sounds good to me.”

G. W. secured the reins, grabbed his own rifle, and jumped from the wagon. He couldn’t think of anything he liked quite as much as his mother’s baked rabbit stew. Just the thought made his stomach rumble.

The two men took off in the direction of the dogs, following the baying as Decatur and Jasper led them deeper into the woods. Just as they neared a freshly cleared area, the baying changed to more of a bellowing bark.

“I don’t think it’s a rabbit they’re after,” G. W. said as they slowed. “Maybe they’ve treed a cougar.”

“Most of ’em have gone west – at least that’s what Uncle Arjan says.”

“I know, but it ain’t impossible for them to still be around. One was spotted north of here just a couple months back.”

Rob nodded, and G. W. pointed. “There they are.”

They saw the two dogs had something backed up against the steep creek bank. Without warning, the animal charged, and the brothers could now see it was a razorback – by the look of its size, a male. Jasper quickly jumped out of the way, but Decatur wasn’t so lucky. The hog took him by surprise and dragged the dog to the ground in a vicious attack. Blood spurted from Decatur’s neck as the tusks dug in.

G. W. and Rob closed the distance to the ruckus. Rob fired his gun over the hog’s head but found it did nothing to deter the beast. Jasper tried to join in the fight, but the hog simply knocked him out of the way. Yipping in pain, Jasper got up and charged again.

Rob yelled and fired the rifle, while G. W. called to Jasper and Decatur. Jasper came, although reluctantly, while Decatur was still locked in combat. Rob took careful aim and fired at the rooter. The animal moved, however, and the bullet just glanced off the thick shoulder hide. Even so, it caught the hog’s attention, and it quickly abandoned its attack and ran for a brushy thicket upstream.

G. W. rushed to Decatur, while Rob chased after the rooter for a short distance. G.W could see that while the dog was still alive, he was mortally wounded. They would have to finish him off; otherwise, he’d suffer.

“Sorry, boy,” G. W. said, reaching down to stroke the hound’s bloody face. “You’ve been a good friend.” Decatur whimpered in pain, and G. W. lost little time putting a bullet in the animal. It brought tears to his eyes to kill such a good companion. Jasper began to howl mournfully.

Rob walked back, shoulders slumped. “I lost track of him. I heard the shot and figured you had to put Decatur down.”

“Yeah,” G. W. said, shaking his head.

Rob handed him his rifle. “I’ll carry him back to the wagon. We can bury him at home. If we leave him here, that rooter will just dig him up.”

G. W. nodded. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

–––––––

After a week, the traps proved to be a good investment. They had captured more than ten rooters, and the family shared the meat among the Vandermark workers. Deborah was deeply sorrowed at the loss of Decatur but certainly no more than Jasper and Lula. They seemed to mope around, seeking far more attention than they had before the death.

“I suppose animals mourn as do we humans,” Deborah told Lizzie as they sat together on the porch. “Still, it seems so sad. They can’t understand or be comforted by mere words.”

“I think they’re comforted, just the same,” Lizzie said as she stroked Jasper’s long silky ears. He placed his head in her lap and rested there while the ladies conversed.

“I wish the train would come. I’m so excited about going to Houston, I can hardly stand the wait,” Deborah said, getting up again to look down the tracks. They were waiting for the southbound log train in order to catch the Houston East and West Texas line in Perkinsville. It had been determined that since Arjan had secured the loan for the Vandermark expansion, G. W. and Rob would escort Lizzie and Deborah to Houston, where they could buy extensive supplies for the business. If the Rabbit kept any kind of schedule, they’d be bound for Houston before nightfall and hopefully settling into their hotel sometime the next morning.