Embers of Love (3 page)

“Doesn’t make me wrong, either,” he answered, taking his seat across from Lizzie. He folded his arms against his chest and fixed his gaze on Deborah.

She could see the pain in his blue eyes. “No, it just makes you stubborn.”

“Deborah!” Lizzie gasped. “Don’t be so harsh.”

G. W. seemed surprised by her sudden support. He nodded with a smug look of satisfaction. “Yeah, don’t be so harsh.”

Deborah rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I’m not about to coddle him, Lizzie, and don’t you dare, either. He doesn’t need that from us. The accident wasn’t his fault, and if he’s too bullheaded to see the truth for himself, then I say it’s our job to help convince him.” Silence descended like a heavy mantle over them. No one seemed willing to challenge Deborah’s comment or to continue with the conversation.

After several moments, G. W. finally spoke up. “We’ll be stopping in about twenty minutes.” He cast a quick look outside. “Unless the Rabbit jumps the tracks.”

“Oh, you don’t really think it would, do you?” Lizzie asked, her hand going to her throat.

He shrugged. “It’s been known to happen, but it shouldn’t. Not the way we’re pokin’ along. I swear I could have walked from Nacogdoches faster.”

And with that, the tension broke and G. W. seemed to relax. Deborah closed her eyes and whispered a prayer for him. Her mother had said very little about his continued sadness, but Deborah hoped she could find time when they could be alone so that she could talk to him. She had to convince him to let go of this guilt.

In her no-nonsense way, Deborah added such matters mentally to the list of things she already planned to see to once they returned home. She was soon to take the helm as bookkeeper and manager of the Vandermark Logging Company. It was her obligation, now that she’d completed her education. She had made a promise to her family – a promise driven by her love of learning. She remembered long talks with her father.

“I’m going to learn all that I can to help the family,”
she’d told him.
“I want to make things easier for you. I can’t very well log, but I
can handle the books.”

She could very nearly recollect her father’s smile and feel his pride in her.
“You do that, darlin’. You’ll be mighty helpful to me.”

Deborah had studied as hard as possible, always keeping the image of her family before her. She might not have the stamina for heavy labor, but anything that required reasoning was right in keeping with her abilities. Her family needed her, and it was for that reason she felt she could put aside her own desires. More important – she didn’t allow for any desire that wouldn’t benefit her kin. It would only muddy the waters, and Deborah needed to stay clear on what her duties were.

She kept her eyes closed, pondering the future and pushing aside her concerns. She found bookkeeping hopelessly boring. Truth be told, she had preferred her biology and botany classes.

If she’d had her choice, Deborah would have remained in school for a time longer. She gave a sigh. What possible good could come from fretting over it now? Women were not expected to attend college, nor were they truly accepted as scholars. But her love of knowledge was something no one could take from her. Deborah cherished reading new books, exploring new worlds and cultures. Her intellect, however, was nothing to wear as a badge of honor. Men were offended by her, and women, intimidated. In truth, she believed it was more that the men felt stupid and the women were afraid to admit that they, too, would like to learn. But it didn’t matter. Her family needed her now, and there was some comfort in that. Well, maybe not exactly comfort.

Father God,
she prayed silently,
I don’t know why you made me
just this way. Is it wrong that I long for something more?

–––––––

Perkinsville had been built alongside the railroad to accommodate the loading of lumber and unloading of supplies. It was, Deborah said, a typical sawmill company town – whatever that meant. Lizzie wasn’t at all familiar with such a thing and definitely didn’t know what to expect. Everything, in her eyes, looked hopelessly dirty. The day was unbearably warm, and Lizzie was glad that she’d listened to Deborah regarding her attire. They had stopped at a secondhand shop in Nacogdoches and purchased lightweight blouses and skirts. G. W. had long ago replaced his wool suit with a simple shirt and trousers, and Lizzie thought he seemed far more relaxed, although he carried a coat with him and donned it as propriety demanded.

Lizzie dabbed at her forehead with her handkerchief as Deborah showed her about the town. Philadelphia could be hot and humid, as well, but it lacked the same heaviness she felt here in the South. She longed for a bath, or perhaps a quick plunge – clothes and all – into the nearby pond. When she mentioned this Deborah laughed.

“That’s the mill pond. We used to swim there on occasion, but now it’s much too busy and Mr. Perkins has asked folks to keep their children out for their own safety. The mill is dependent upon the pond.” Lizzie followed Deborah’s gaze. “They unload the logs from the train and dump them there. Later they use a series of conveyors and chains called a jack ladder to pull the logs into the sawmill.”

Lizzie spotted the smoke belching from the stacks. “With the damp air and thick smoke, I can’t imagine living here.”

“Usually there’s a breeze to move it out. We arrived on a still day, and that tends to make things worse.”

“My mother would say it serves me right,” Lizzie murmured.

“That’s really the first time you’ve mentioned her since leaving the wedding.” Deborah eyed her thoughtfully for a moment. “I haven’t wanted to pry, but how are you feeling toward her?”

“To be honest, I’ve actually found myself concerned for Mother. I know she had great plans for me prior to my wedding announcement and, no doubt, had figured out some way to use me for her purposes even after I married Stuart.”

“And what of Stuart?”

Lizzie grew thoughtful. “I feel guilty for having embarrassed him so publicly.” She paused for a moment. “My main thoughts are for Mother, however. I suppose now that we’ve arrived, I should send her a letter. She must surely be worried. Is there a post office here?”

“Of course, right over here.” Deborah continued the tour. “Then this is the depot and commissary. There are many things housed under this one roof,” Deborah explained. “The pharmacy is here, the post office and paymaster for the sawmill, plus it is the main source of supplies. The commissary itself is quite large and contains most everything you could ever need.” She smiled. “Yet like I said before, it’s hardly Philadelphia.” She glanced around. “I can’t imagine what’s keeping Rob and G. W.”

G. W. had gone off looking for their brother. Rob was supposed to meet them at the station with the wagon, but so far he’d not shown himself. Lizzie hoped he’d arrive soon. She wasn’t sure how much of the heat she could stand. She looked at the unpainted buildings and dirt roads.
What in the world have I gotten myself into?

Deborah chatted on as if the heat didn’t bother her in the least. “Across the street just there is the boardinghouse for whites. On the other side of the tracks is the black boardinghouse and quarters where the blacks live. In the South, you will find that the color of your skin determines a great deal. Folks around here try to be tolerant, but many cannot put the issue aside. And it’s not just in dealing with the blacks. Mr. Perkins hates Mexicans and Indians. He won’t even allow them to live or work here.”

“And why is that?”

“Something to do with the past and his family. I believe they were injured or killed by people of those races. Folks around here always have a reason for hating others – that way it seems more acceptable to them.”

“I suppose it isn’t easy. Being a different color isn’t exactly something you can hide,” Lizzie commented. “The town is so small,” she said, casting her gaze back to the commissary. “Is this the only store?”

“Very nearly. This is a company town, owned and operated by the Perkins family. They own the sawmill and arranged for most everything you see. Mr. Perkins is a very nice man, so folks here count themselves blessed. Some towns suffer at the hands of cruel masters. Here the people are treated quite well. Prices are not overly inflated and people can be paid in cash upon proof of an emergency. Oh, and they pay out cash at Christmas and Texas Independence Day – March the second. Some folks are suggesting it be changed to America’s Independence Day, but like I said, many of the citizens are still feeling rather hostile toward the northern states.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you said regarding money. Aren’t the people otherwise paid?”

Deborah smiled. “Not in cash. They’re paid with company tokens that they can exchange for goods. Payment for rent and medical needs is taken out of their salaries. They even tithe in tokens.”

Lizzie had never heard of such a thing. “But how then can they save up money or invest for their future?”

Her friend shook her head. “They can’t. They have no future but this town. They are essentially owned by the company.”

“But that’s slavery, and Mr. Lincoln abolished that during the war.”

“Don’t talk about Mr. Lincoln too loud down here. Folks won’t take too kindly to it.” Deborah motioned to the commissary. “Let’s step inside. It’s much too warm to stand out here in the sun. G. W. will know where to find us.”

Lizzie followed her up the wooden steps, avoiding the splintered rail. Three large dogs were resting near the door and looked up only long enough to ascertain whether Deborah and Lizzie were a threat before putting their heads back down.

The screen door moaned as Deborah pulled it open. Lizzie stepped inside, taking a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the darker interior. The walls were stacked to the ceiling with shelved goods. Rows of tables and display cases offered everything from razors to shoes to writing paper. Across the store in the far corner were shelves lined with canned goods and sacks of rice, beans, and cornmeal. Each was clearly stamped, along with the weight.

“Let’s see if they have anything cold to drink. Mr. Perkins brings ice in from time to time.” They made their way across the rough-hewn floor to the counter, where an older man was busy folding fabric.

“Mr. Greeley, it’s good to see you again,” Deborah began.

The man looked up and studied the two women for a moment. “Miss Deborah?”

“It’s me,” she replied, laughing. “All grown up, as Mama would say.”

He put aside his material and gave them his full attention. “I knew you were expected. Your mama has been tellin’ everyone about you comin’ home.”

“Just came in on the train. G. W.’s gone to find Rob. He was supposed to be here with the wagon since we didn’t want to wait for the log train.”

“Are you home for good?” He looked at Lizzie. “Oh, where are my manners? Introduce me to your friend.”

“This is Miss Elizabeth Decker. We attended school together. She will be staying with us for a while.”

“Miss Decker, you are like a ray of sunshine. Menfolk down here will be happy to see another female. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise,” she said, uncertain if the nod of her head was the proper greeting.

Deborah didn’t give her time to consider the matter further. “We were hoping you might have something cold to drink.”

“I surely do. Mrs. Greeley made two pitchers of lemonade, as well as some sweet tea. Which do you prefer?”

“Oh, lemonade would surely be perfect,” Deborah declared.

“Why don’t you two have a seat, and I’ll bring it right out to you.”

Deborah nodded and led Lizzie to an area just beyond the counter, where several small tables and chairs had been positioned. “The men often gather here for coffee and checkers. Sometimes they even have a meeting or two.”

Lizzie took a seat on the obviously handmade chair. She worried that the unfinished wood would snag her skirt, but noted that Deborah seemed to give it little thought. Deborah had been right; this was quite different from what she had known back East.

“As you can see, the store has an ample supply of cloth goods, foods, and household supplies. My mother wrote to tell me that they recently opened a hardware store across the street to handle some of the larger tools and building materials. Down the street is the church and school. There’s a livery and blacksmith, as well as a new doctor’s office and infirmary. According to my mother, Mrs. Perkins finally convinced Mr. Perkins to hire a quality doctor since a great many women have died from childbed fever or in childbirth itself.”

“How sad that they should have died when such progress has been made. Remember the lecture we heard just before graduation? Mrs. Lyman was the speaker.”

Deborah nodded. “Yes, I know she was especially encouraged that medicine was making abundant improvements, especially in women’s needs. But a doctor will be very valuable to the men in this community, as well. There are frequent accidents. A doctor will be a blessing.”

“Here you go, ladies.” Mr. Greeley reappeared with two glasses of lemonade.

Lizzie immediately sampled hers and smiled. It was just right – not too tart. “It’s very good.”

“Mrs. Greeley will be pleased to know you enjoyed it.”

“Just put it on our account, please,” Deborah instructed.

“Oh no, Miss Deborah. This one is on the house. We’re just pleased as can be to have you home. Bet your mama is fairly dancin’ a jig. She’s talked of nothing but your return.”

Lizzie marveled at the easy manner in which they fell into conversation. There were no formalities, yet there was a certain genteel respect that she found rather comforting.

“I finally found him,” G. W. declared as he and another man bounded into the commissary. Lizzie looked up just as Rob Vandermark caught sight of her. He grinned from ear to ear and stepped forward in three bold strides to take hold of her hand. Bowing low, he drew her fingers to his lips.

“Why, if you aren’t the purtiest gal! Hair the color of corn silk and eyes bluer than a summer sky.”

“This is my brother Rob,” Deborah announced. “He’s the poet in the family.”