Hearts Aglow (33 page)
“That is strange. Do you suppose his mother was married to someone else when she bore Christopher?”
“I thought of that possibility. He’s never said anything, though. I suppose it’s part of the mystery.” Deborah stopped at the table and grew thoughtful. “That would make a lot of sense. If Christopher was the son of, say, someone disreputable – then he wouldn’t want anyone to know about it. He might have never even known the man. Mr. Clayton could have married his mother later on and become a father to him.”
“And it would be even worse if his mother and father divorced,” Lizzie said in a hushed voice. “Think of the scandal.”
Deborah nodded. “I’d never really thought of the possibility until now. It does make sense, however. He is the eldest.”
Somehow, such thoughts served to comfort Deborah. Not because she wanted Christopher to have endured such a life, but if it were true, it would explain a great deal.
She pondered her discussion with Lizzie throughout supper and said very little. Deborah was so absorbed in her thoughts that even Jake gave up trying to talk to her. By the time supper had concluded, it had been raining for over an hour, the winds howling and the house nearly shaking at times.
“Guess this breaks the drought,” Jake said, shaking his head. “A little too late to help my family, but hopefully it’ll be a blessin’ to someone.”
“It’s a blessing here, for sure,” Mother said. “The moisture will keep down the fire hazards with the trees, and we can definitely use it for crops and the animals.”
“It’ll make working tough,” G.W. said. “The roads and paths are difficult enough, but when they turn to mud, it’s nigh on impossible to travel ’em.”
Arjan nodded. “Givin’ a listen to that wind, I’m figurin’ we’ll have enough downed trees to keep us busy for a spell. We’ll need to take all the mules with us when we head out. No doubt we’ll have to skid logs back aways to reach the railroad siding.”
“We can probably do some loads on the wagons – iffen the roads ain’t too bad,” Warren offered. “ ’Course, G.W. may be right. They might be nothin’ but mud by the time we get there.”
“The storm should pass in the night, and tomorrow we’ll be ready to face whatever comes,” Arjan said. “Until then, no sense borrowin’ trouble.”
After the men headed out in the morning, Euphanel and Lizzie stood on the front porch with Deborah and surveyed the yard. There were a few downed branches, some shingles that had been torn off the barn roof, and a few outdoor articles that had been tossed around by the wind.
“It could have been much worse,” Euphanel said, grateful that none of her windows had suffered damage. The cost of glass was nearly unreasonable, and she had no desire to go replacing windows after just a few months of use.
“Was Uncle Arjan going to send word back to let us know how bad the damage in the camp might be?” Deborah asked.
“He said he would try.”
“I want to head into town and see how they are faring there. I’ll bet Jael will be glad they all headed back to Philadelphia last Monday when she hears of the storm. She said they were planning to return in another month or so and stay in Houston permanently, but maybe after this, they’ll change their minds. After all, Houston could have been hit quite hard,” Deborah said, unfastening her apron.
“I pray not.” Euphanel tried to conceal her concern.
“G.W. mentioned that Mr. Perkins is to have a house for Stuart and Mr. Longstreet in town so that when they come on business, they will have a place to stay,” Lizzie added.
“They seem intent on becoming active partners in the sawmill.” Euphanel didn’t want to worry about the implications of such an arrangement. Arjan had told her that Zed was worried about some of the changes the two Easterners wanted to make. Apparently they each had equal votes on how things would be done, and with Mr. Longstreet and Mr. Albright agreeing on most things, Euphanel could only guess what might happen.
“Do you want to come to town with me, Mother?”
She looked at Deborah a moment, then nodded. “I believe I will. It would be good to check on folks and see how they fared. Good to let them know how we are, as well.” She held her hand out. “I’ll take your apron if you want to go hitch up the carriage. The boys took our wagon.”
Deborah gave her the apron and headed down the steps. “Lizzie,” she called over her shoulder, “if you need anything from town, just make us a list.”
Euphanel smiled at her daughter-in-law. “Yes, we can pick up whatever you need – if the store is still standing.”
On their drive, Euphanel could see that Deborah was fretful.
“I wish you wouldn’t worry so,” she told her daughter. “Worry won’t change a thing.”
“I know,” Deborah said focusing on the road. “It’s hard though. I have no way of knowing if Christopher is safe.”
“But God knows, and He’s with Christopher, just as He is with us.”
“Do you suppose I could send a telegram to Indianola?” Deborah asked suddenly. “I mean, I could just send it to the sheriff there and ask that it be forwarded to Christopher. Since his brother is in jail, surely the law officials would know where Christopher was staying. It can’t be that big of a town.”
Euphanel could hear desperation in her daughter’s voice. She put her hand on Deborah’s arm. “I think that would be a good idea.”
“Thank you for understanding. I can hardly stand not knowing.”
“I do understand,” Euphanel assured. “I’ve been wondering about Rob and whether Houston sustained damage.”
Deborah pulled back on the reins. “I’m so sorry, Mother. I’ve been quite selfish in my concern. It never came to mind that Rob might be in danger, even when I mentioned Jael.”
“We shall pray for both of them, Deborah. God has them in His hands, and I refuse to give in to the seeds of doubt the devil sows. In time, we shall know the truth, and when our answers come, we must know where our faith is fixed. Otherwise, we’ll be tossed about, just like the tree branches in the wind.”
The air near town smelled of smoke, and while it was generally stale with dust and the scent of woodsmoke, this was different. A stiff breeze from the southwest moved most of the haze off to the northeast, but it was still evident that something was terribly wrong.
A great many people stood in the roadway near the boardinghouse, so Deborah turned the carriage down one of the side streets. She figured she could bring the horses around past the church and park alongside the doctor’s office, avoiding the crowd. Doing even this, however, took some creative thought. Tree limbs littered the road, and she couldn’t imagine why folks hadn’t cleared them away. Studying the area around her, it seemed that no one had even bothered to begin their cleanup.
“You don’t suppose the train jumped the tracks, do you?” Euphanel asked.
Deborah looked at her mother and shrugged. “Anything’s possible. It’s certainly notorious for that kind of thing, and the bulk of the people seemed to be standing near the depot office at the commissary. Still, I thought all of the trains were driven north yesterday.”
Her mother nodded as Deborah maneuvered the horses onto Main Street. She gasped at the sight of flames that rose up from where the sawmill was positioned. “Oh no!” She pointed in the direction of the fire. “The mill!”
Her mother stared in disbelief. “It can’t be.”
Deborah hurried to park the carriage in front of the doctor’s house. She climbed down from the wagon, then reached up to help Mother do the same. Many of the town’s women and children were gathered by the commissary. The gathering spilled out, blocking First Street.
The two women hurried to join the others and learn what had happened. Deborah saw several women gathered around Rachel Perkins and moved that direction, with Mother on her heels.
“Rachel,” her mother called.
Mrs. Perkins looked up. Her face was smudged from the ash in the air and streaked with tears. “Oh, Euphanel,” she sobbed. “It’s so awful.”
“What happened?”
The women who had been standing with Mrs. Perkins moved away a bit to make room for Deborah and her mother. Rachel fell into Euphanel’s arms. Deborah looked to Mrs. Greeley, who stood just to their left.
“We figure it must have been lightning,” Mrs. Greeley whispered. “Fire started sometime during the storm. They’ve been trying to fight it all night – even in the fiercest winds.”
“That must have been difficult,” Deborah murmured.
Her mother pulled away from Rachel and lifted her friend’s face. “Tell me, has anyone been hurt?”
“I don’t know. The men have been gone for most of the night. Zed and my boys are all over there fighting the fire with the others. They are desperate to keep it from spreading. The women and children did what they could to water down the buildings nearby, as well as the stacks of lumber.”
Deborah moved to get a little closer to the front of the crowd. To her surprise, Mother and Mrs. Perkins followed. She fixed her gaze on the front of the mill but could see very little through the smoke billowing out the open doors. Flames licked the already charred walls on the north side, however. Given the amount of smoke that clouded the sky, it was obvious that the fire had burned out a good portion of the roof.
Others in the crowd were crying. The children seemed uncommonly quiet and still. Perhaps, Deborah thought, they were thinking of what might be happening to their fathers and brothers. She felt sickened by the thought that some of the men might lose their lives fighting the flames. She wondered if she should volunteer to open the doctor’s office, but realized Margaret Foster had probably already done so.
“I do wish Zed would come here and tell me what’s happening,” Mrs. Perkins said, taking the handkerchief that Mother offered her.
“No doubt he’s much too busy, Rachel. Don’t fret. I’m sure that with all the men helping, the fire will soon be out. Is there anything we can do to aid them?”
“No. Like I said, we were putting water on everything we could, but the heat got so intense, the men told us to wait over here. Zed got the bucket brigade going just after the pump was in position. The men are drawing water from the millpond. The pump can’t put out a great deal, but it’s better than nothing.”
Mother nodded and looked at Deborah. “Why don’t you go ahead and see about sending your telegram. The wires run along the other side of the tracks and shouldn’t be burned.”
Deborah hadn’t even considered that possibility. She left her mother and the others and hurried to the depot office, hoping someone might be there to help her. Old Mr. Parsons sat at his post, ever faithful. She watched him as he wrote down a message to the clicking of the telegraph. He didn’t so much as glance her way until the final words were given. Only then did he put down his pencil. Shaking his head, he looked up.
“Mornin’, Miss Vandermark. Surely is a sad day.”
She nodded. “It is indeed, Mr. Parsons. Mother and I just arrived and could scarcely believe that the mill was a-fire.”
The smoke wasn’t too bad, but the August heat warmed the room, making it quite stuffy. Deborah could see that the windows had been shut to keep out the ash and fumes. It was a wonder the old man could endure it.
“Ain’t just the mill, neither,” he replied. “Bad news comin’ in from the storm. Seems it were a mighty strong hurricane. I’ve had word about damage in Houston.”
She immediately thought of her brother. “How bad was it?”
“Well, it caused some destruction, but ain’t near as bad as down the coast to the south. There’s reports of towns bein’ all torn up.”
Deborah swallowed hard. “Can we send telegrams south?”
“Only for a ways. Some of the lines are still workin’ and some ain’t. Couldn’t get word through to Victoria. Mrs. Greeley wanted me to send a wire to her ma to see if she was all right, but the lines are down. Seems the storm came right up the coast from that area. Galveston got through for a time. My daughter’s family is down that way. I heard from the operator that the town took damage, but he didn’t say how bad. Told me word came in that a lot of the towns on the Gulf are just gone – underwater. Wires are down and even the mail has stopped.”
Deborah felt her stomach churn. Indianola was only about thirty miles from Victoria. If they had seen destruction that far inland, Indianola was bound to have met with a worse fate. It sat right on the water and rivaled Galveston for the busiest port in Texas.
