Hope Rekindled (27 page)

It was bad enough being forced to do something he’d never intended to do, but Stuart hated wasting his time even more. After making excuses for several days, he’d finally ridden up to the Vandermark logging camp only to find it deserted. Now it was late afternoon and he was finally reaching home, but he had no answers to give his nagging wife. He’d considered stopping at the Vandermark house on his return, but with the light fading and his mood definitely darkening, as well, he decided against it. If Jael asked him about it, he would simply let her know that he’d try again the next day.

It was clear they’d moved the camp, but Stuart had no idea where they’d gone to or why. He would ask around and see if anyone could tell him. If that failed, he’d have no choice but to go to the Vandermark house and inquire there. He didn’t want to do that if he could help it. He despised seeing G.W. and Lizzie together. They were happy, in spite of the problems he’d created for them. It didn’t make sense, but Stuart supposed it didn’t have to. It frustrated him, nevertheless.

When he rode up to his house, Stuart could see that Jael was serving a guest on the front porch. He frowned. Who had come to plague them now? He dismounted and tied the horse off at the post near the front steps.

Jael came to the rail. “Mr. Jennings from Houston has come to see you,” she said as any dutiful wife might. “Since it was cooler out here on the porch, I thought to serve him some chilled lemonade. Would you care for a glass, also?”

Stuart shook his head and tried to recall who Jennings was. The name was vaguely familiar. He climbed the steps and extended his hand to the older man. Getting to his feet, the man gave a hint of a bow.

“Mr. Albright, I’m from your bank in Houston. I have some business to discuss, if you can take the time.”

He remembered the man then. He was one of the lesser bank officers who kept an eye on the Vandermark accounts for him. Stuart turned to Jael. “Thank you for seeing to our guest in Essie’s absence. I do need to speak with him privately, however.”

Jael nodded. “Then I will go check on supper.” She smiled at Mr. Jennings. “I hope you’ll find our guest room to your liking. I’ll see to it that you have fresh water in the pitcher. We’ll dine at six-thirty.”

“Mrs. Albright, you are a delightful hostess. I’m certain that I will sleep like a babe in the arms of his mother,” the man said, bowing lower than he had for Stuart. “And if the aroma of that food is any indication, supper will be a culinary delight.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jennings. I will allow you to reserve judgment until you’ve sampled the meal.”

The interaction irritated Stuart, but he said nothing. He waited until Jael had returned to the house before motioning the man back to his seat. Pulling up a chair to sit directly in front of the man, Stuart gave his guest a sober gaze. “So tell me what has caused you to come all this way.”

The last person G.W. had expected to see that Saturday morning was Stuart Albright. Even so, there the man stood, filling the office doorway with a scowl as dark as the growing clouds outside.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Albright?” Thunder rumbled in the distance, making the moment feel even more ominous to G.W.

Stuart’s expression changed to one of smug control. “It’s more what I can do for you. I tried to let you know about it yesterday. I made my way out to the logging camp but found it deserted.”

“Camps move from time to time. You have to go where the trees are,” G.W. replied, hoping he sounded convincing. “Turpentiners finished up in one section, so we wanted to get those trees down before a strong storm came along.” He’d certainly not expected Albright to venture anywhere near the camp, but now that he had, it would be up to G.W. to make it seem irrelevant.

“And where are you now located?”

“Well, we have one camp up on the northern edge of our property. There’s another we’ve started just east of here. Why do you ask?”

G.W. could sense that the man was up to something, but he was still uncertain as to what that was. Albright could not be trusted—that much G.W. knew.

“I’d enjoy seeing it sometime, especially now.”

“Especially now?” G.W. questioned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Albright laughed, but it sounded hollow and devoid of any real amusement. “It means that I have come to reinstate our logging contract. My father-in-law has convinced me that we can do better for ourselves by processing our own lumber for the rebuilding of the mill. Of course, that also means we must act fast.”

G.W. found it hard to believe the man was serious. This couldn’t be boding well with Albright. He meant to force Vandermark Logging out of business. He wouldn’t do anything to benefit them.

“So when would you like delivery to start?”

“Immediately,” Stuart replied. “Of course, I realize that may tax you somewhat.”

“Tax us? I don’t reckon I understand.”

“Then perhaps I’d better explain,” Stuart said, finally taking a seat in front of G.W.’s desk. “I want what is owed to the Perkinsville Sawmill, the full amount. Of course, I will also be paying you in full, you understand.”

G.W. did understand. Albright wanted Vandermark Logging to supply them with the quota of logs that they’d agreed to under contract. That would entail thousands and thousands of board feet, but it would bring them a nice tidy sum and put the family business back on its feet.

“I reckon we can to do that.” G.W. took up a piece of paper. He figured it would come to Albright as a surprise with what he was going to say next. “We can have the first delivery made on Monday. Do you want ’em dumped in the millpond like before or just stacked?”

“I want them stacked. I want all of them stacked and ready by June twentieth.”

G.W. wasn’t sure exactly what Albright meant. He looked at the man and shook his head. “I said I could have them on Monday. You want me to wait till the twentieth? That’s two weeks from Monday.”

“You’re right,” Stuart replied, pressing his fingers together.

“So you don’t want a delivery on Monday?”

“I didn’t say that. What I want is what is owed me—in full—in two weeks.”

It began to dawn on G.W. exactly what Stuart was implying. “You want delivery of all the logs we would have brought into the mill since it burned down? And you want them in two weeks?”

“Exactly,” Stuart said, his smug smile broadening.

“That’s impossible,” G.W. said, shaking his head. “We can’t cut that fast.”

Stuart shrugged. “You should have been cutting all along.”

“We have been, but we can only stockpile so many logs. You wouldn’t want the quality jeopardized.”

Stuart didn’t seem to even hear him. “It’s legally owed me, and if you do not comply, then you will be in breach of contract. I will see to it that you are forced to forfeit your land in payment.” Getting to his feet, Stuart headed for the door. “Perhaps if you’d seen fit not to go behind my back and arrange for your logs to go elsewhere, you’d have enough stockpiled to meet my needs.”

He was gone before G.W. could respond—not that he knew what to say. G.W. thought of going after Albright and telling him they had done nothing illegal, but he figured Albright already knew that. In fact, it was probably the very reason he’d come with the demands he’d just made. He couldn’t punish the Vandermarks for giving away their logs, but he could penalize them by forcing them to meet an impossible deadline.

G.W. glanced at the clock on the wall. His mother, Arjan, and the children were out checking on the black grapes. Mother always liked to get them picked early, and even though they mostly ripened in July and August, she kept a close vigil. Arjan could get around with a cane but Mother wouldn’t yet let him return to the logging camp, so he busied himself the best he could by helping where she’d allow for it. Lizzie and the twins were out in the garden. His son and daughter would celebrate their first birthday on the sixteenth—just four days prior to Albright’s newly imposed deadline.

He rubbed the long healed injury to his thigh and wondered how they could make it all work out. G.W. had never been as good with figures as he would’ve liked to be, but a fella didn’t need a higher education to know that the logs they owed Albright were more than they could hope to cut with the small crew employed by Vandermark Logging.

“We’re gonna need your help on this one, Lord,” he said, looking to the ceiling. “And we’re gonna need it by the twentieth.”

D
eborah sat beside Christopher and listened as her brother and Arjan laid out their plans for the two weeks to come. She and Christopher had agreed to come and help at the logging camp. Christopher felt that with her there to tend the injured, as well as help with the cooking, he could lend a hand in the actual logging. The idea made Deborah smile. He had no idea what he was in for. Logging was not for the faint of heart, and while her husband had great stamina and strength, he was used to tending patients.

“We’ve got to get the word out that we’ll take any and all workers,” Arjan said. “I figure with my leg the way it is, I can at least take care of that much.”

Mother shook her head. “You shouldn’t even be up and around, but like my mama used to say, ‘You can’t harness the wind.’ ”

Arjan laughed. “Is that your way of declarin’ I’m full of hot air?” He smiled and continued. “I’ll send out a wire, then head up to Lufkin and see if I can round up some men. We’ve got friends all around us, and hopefully they’ll lend a hand.”

“I’ll help Deborah at the camp,” Lizzie announced. “Mother has already agreed to keep the children here with her.”

G.W. nodded. “Havin’ you gals there to cook and clean up will be a great help. Those fellas are gonna need hardy helpin’s of food. Jake, you sure you don’t mind stayin’ here to lend Ma a hand?”

“I don’t mind at all. In fact, I’ll come back to work if Mr. Vandermark will just let me.”

“No, Son. Havin’ you here will put my mind at ease.”

“Mine too,” Mother said, giving Jake a reassuring nod.

“I’ll go to the commissary and see what can be had,” Arjan promised. “I’ll be headin’ there to send the telegram anyway.”

“I’ll go with you,” Deborah interjected. “There are cots at the infirmary. We could use them for the workers. Stuart Albright may not like it, but I don’t intend to ask for his permission.”

“Sounds good. I know any extra tents are bein’ used to help shelter the folks who lost their homes,” Arjan replied. “I’ll see what’s to be had later in Lufkin. We’ll get what we can and get back here as soon as possible. By then, you oughta have the rest of the gear loaded and ready to go.”

Mother nodded. “Sissy and I will pack the other wagon with dried beans and cornmeal.” She looked to her friend. “We’re running low after taking so much into town after the fire, but we’ll get by.”

“The garden is producing, and with game and such, we can surely get by until Albright pays us on the twentieth,” G.W. said. “We’ll need to work around the clock at the camp, so we’re gonna need a lot of lanterns and kerosene.”

“I’ll add that to the list,” Arjan said.

“Can we really do this?” Mother asked.

Deborah hated the way her voice sounded—so uncertain, weary before they even attempted to accomplish the goal.

“It’ll be close. We’ll have to work every day,” G.W. said.

“We aren’t working on the Lord’s Day,” Arjan declared firmly. “Your pa and I had a long-standin’ agreement that we would always honor the Lord by keepin’ that day holy. I don’t intend to break with that now.”

Deborah looked at him in surprise. “But it’s just this once, and the circumstances are critical.”

“Either we believe God will see us through this or we don’t,” Arjan replied. “God certainly expects us to work and do our part, but He won’t be replaced by a false idol—even one as honorable as meetin’ our contract obligations.”

“He’s right,” Mother said, glancing at her husband with a smile. “We put God first. He will provide what we need.”

Deborah fully believed in having faith, but this surprised her. Surely God allowed for extenuating circumstances. Jesus was even confronted by the Pharisees about healing on the Sabbath. What was it He said?

“ ‘Wherefore it is lawful to do well on the Sabbath days,’ ” she murmured, remembering the twelfth chapter of Matthew.

Her stepfather met her gaze. “What was that?”

“I was just remembering that Jesus said it was lawful to do well on the Sabbath. He said it just before healing a man.”

“And I suppose we must reckon what the Lord meant by doin’ well,” Arjan said. “Like healin’. I figure selfless acts that keep a fella or animal from starvin’ or dyin’ are doin’ well. Earning a livin’ can’t hardly be the same difference.”

Deborah knew she wouldn’t convince him otherwise and only nodded. She supposed he made a good point. Their dilemma was one that, when resolved, would provide them with monetary gain.

“Don’t fret, Deborah,” her stepfather added. “God ain’t forgotten about us in all this time. I don’t reckon He’s gonna start anytime soon.”

She smiled, knowing he was right. She pushed back her fearful thoughts and settled on revisiting such issues at a later time. “Well, we’d best get to town. There’s no tellin’ what we’ll find. Stuart Albright may well have shipped the commissary off to Houston by now.” She got to her feet.

“Let’s pray first,” Arjan said, standing.

The others rose and joined hands. Deborah bowed her head and closed her eyes.
Father, this seems to be more than we can bear
, she prayed even as her stepfather began his petition.
Please go before us.

Deborah was surprised to find the commissary very nearly emptied. Arjan stood at the counter, shaking his head as Jude Greeley explained.

“Mr. Longstreet came in here with the black folks and set them up accounts to get the things they needed. He moved them over to the row of empty houses on the north side of town and said they could stay there until new places could be built. He figures to get the mill going mighty quick—even put in a big order of supplies to come up from Burke and any place else he could get ’em.”

“Do tell,” Arjan said, shaking his head. “Well, it would seem Mr. Albright and Mr. Longstreet have had a change of heart in matters regardin’ Perkinsville.”

“It would seem that way,” Jude admitted. “I still have some bags of beans and meal, though. Just not a great deal. I’ll give you what I can and then you come back next week and we should be restocked. Mr. Longstreet wired for the new supplies to be sent right away.”

“Guess that’ll have to do us,” Arjan replied. “How about kerosene and some lanterns?”

Jude shook his head. “I have some kerosene left, but they cleaned me out of lamps and lanterns. Why don’t you take a look around and see what’s left. If you can use it—take it. Say, you oughta check over at the livery. Maybe they could spare a few lanterns for you to borrow.”

“It’s worth askin’ after,” Arjan agreed. “We may just have to make some smudge pots.”

“Or some good old-fashioned bonfires.” Deborah touched his arm. “I’m going to go over to the infirmary and get the cots.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Deborah—I mean Mrs. Kelleher,” Jude interjected, “but they took those, as well.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “All of them?”

“ ’Fraid so. Those folks lost everything, as you know.”

“Looks like we’ll be sleeping out under the stars,” she told Arjan.

“Reckon so. Guess we’d do well to finish up here and get on our way.”

G.W. loved being out in the woods again. He relished the smell of pine and earth. Watching the men at work, he found he even missed the hard labor of swinging an ax. His father had taught him at a very early age how to cut wood for the hearth. Later, he instructed G.W. how to cut a wedge to fell a tree. So many lessons he’d learned from his father. And in times like this, G.W. couldn’t help but think of them. His father had been a good man—loving and generous. How he missed him.

An approaching wagon drew G.W.’s focus. He figured Arjan and Deborah were returning with the commissary purchases and left his things to go greet them. Not seeing any telltale evidence heaping the back of the wagon, he frowned.

“What happened?” He saw only a few bags of beans, cornmeal, sugar, and salt. There were also half a dozen other items, including some extra axes and saws and tins of kerosene.

“Apparently, Mr. Longstreet and Albright practiced generosity on the black folks. The commissary was pretty bare by the time we got there.” Arjan climbed down, accepting G.W.’s offer of help. “The ride put me to achin’, but don’t tell your mother or she’ll be fussin’ over me.”

G.W. nodded. “We can make do. I’ll send a couple of the boys out to shoot a rabbit or two. Maybe a squirrel. We’ll get by.”

“They took all the hospital cots, as well,” Deborah said, coming from the other side of the wagon. “I can’t fault them for doing such a kindness, but it does change things for us a bit.”

“Not to worry,” Arjan said. “I’m gonna head right up to Lufkin. If I get a move on, I can get there by dark. I’ll attend church with Bertram Wallace in the morning and return on Monday.”

Deborah reached into the wagon bed and took up several small sacks of flour. Smiling at her stepfather, she said, “We’d best get you on your way.”

Within a matter of minutes, Arjan was back in the wagon seat. “I’ll see you on Monday.” He snapped the reins and moved the horses out.

G.W. turned to Deborah. “Lizzie has been workin’ to expand the cooking area. I’m gonna send Jimmy and Tommy down to bring up the tables and benches we made for your weddin’. I reckon they’ll serve us pretty well.”

“Where’s Christopher? I need to let him know that I couldn’t bring much of anything from the old house. It was pretty well stripped.”

“He’s actually gettin’ a lesson on the two-handed saw. I have a feelin’ your husband is in for blistered hands and a sore back before this is all said and done.”

“There are worse things,” Deborah replied. “Where did he set up?”

“Right over there. We doubled the boys up in the other tents, and you and the doc are in the one by mine and Lizzie’s.” G.W. pointed to where two tents sat apart from the others. “You’ll be closer to the creek that way. I told the boys to just figure on bringin’ up two pails of water every mornin’ to help you ladies get it heated for coffee and anything else you need. After that, you’ll pretty much be on your own. The men are gonna be too busy.”

She laughed. “Gijsbert Willem Vandermark, we are fully capable of doing our part. Hard work never hurt anyone.”

“I beg to differ with you,” he said, grinning. “Hard work just about kilt me when I fell out of a tree.”

“I can see your point, but unfortunately there’s no more time to chat. There’s a lot of work to be done. I’ve got to get the beans soaking for tomorrow and help Lizzie figure out how we’re going to manage everything.”