Vivid (9 page)

"A pickpocket!"

"Yes. When I was young I would go to
go to wharf every day during the summers with my father to buy fresh
vegetables. There were some street children who frequented the wharf. They had
no families and they would steal watches and coin purses, and the vegetables
and fish from the vendors' stalls. One day the constables were chasing the band
through the market and I remember thinking how exciting it must be to live that
way."

"Go on," Nate said.

"Well, a few days after the constable
incident I slipped away from my father at the wharf and went off in search of
the children. I found them living in an old shack not far from the market and I
asked if I could join. They were suspicious of course, but I gave the leader
the gold crucifix I had around my neck and I was allowed in. Of course, I was
caught the first time I tried to cut a purse, and what made matters even worse,
the pocket I'd tried to pick belonged to the sexton at my church. He marched me
right over to my father, who had been frantically searching the wharf for
me."

"What did your father do?"

"After he kissed me for being alive,
he listened to the sexton's story and took me home."

"And?"

"And gave me over to my mother. He
told me later he was too angry to punish me the way he thought I deserved, and
he didn't want to injure me."

"In other words he wanted to whip the
tar out of you?"

"Exactly. So my mother did it
instead. I'd done some dangerous and stupid things in my short life until then,
but that was the topper. My mother lectured me for weeks afterward on
responsibility and perceptions and being an example for the race. But it was my
father's disappointment that hurt me more than anything else, and I never did
anything even remotely similar again."

“Do your people call you Viveca?''

"No, they call me Vivid."

"Why?"

"Viveca was hard for my sisters to
pronounce when we were all small. Closest my sister Jess could come was Vivid.
My father says Vivid also defines my personality. My mother prefers Viveca,
however." Vivid looked over at Nate Grayson and wondered if maybe she'd
said too much. He could certainly use the information she'd just volunteered
against her even though he had promised her the job on a trial basis. Her
mother often faulted her for being so open about personal matters. As she'd
gotten older Vivid had curbed the practice to some extent, but it was a habit
she still found hard to break completely.

"Anything else I should know?"

"Whether you believe it or not, I'm
accustomed to hard work.

He appeared skeptical. "And what do
you consider hard work?"

"I've put up fences, cleared
brush."

"Cleared brush?"

Vivid nodded. "Yes, my
abuela
—"

"Abuela?"

"My grandmother has a large ranch
down by the Mexican border. My sisters and I would visit her in the summers
sometimes. We'd help her and her vaqueros clear brush, repair fences. We even
helped at round up one year, and each of us took a turn at branding
cattle."

"You've branded cattle?"

"Only once. The vaqueros swore to me
the cattle didn't feel the brand, but after I smelled the burned hide and saw
the terror in the poor animal's eyes, I didn't believe them and I never did it
again."

Nate found her tales so amazing he didn't
know whether to believe them or not. Women branding cattle, and what in the
hell was a
vaquero?
If all she said was true, he realized he was only
beginning to understand just how vivid this woman truly was. However, he was
still convinced she would not stay.

"Mr. Grayson, I admit I am not
conventional by anyone's definition, but if you judge me on the kind of medicine
I practice, the rest shouldn't matter. And who knows, we may even become
friends."

"Anything is possible."

"Yes, it is."

He stood then and pushed the chair under
the desk. "I should be getting back."

"I thank you for affording me the
opportunity to stay, especially when you don't believe in my ability."

Nate looked into her eyes. There was no
guile in this female. She laid her cards right on the table. "You always
this straightforward?"

"A good physician goes to the heart
of the matter," she replied. "And I've learned men respect frankness,
even when they don't respect me as a physician or a woman."

"Touché," he said.

"You misunderstood me. I wasn't being
catty, Mr. Grayson, simply truthful."

Nate had to admit there was more to the
doctor than he first imagined. He walked to the screened door.

Her voice stopped him just as he pushed it
open. "Mr. Grayson?''

Nate turned back.

Their eyes met and held.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

He surveyed her a moment, then nodded.
"You're welcome.''

And he was gone.

That night, Nate lay in bed in the big
attic bedroom. He'd been thinking about the doctor most of the evening. How
would folks react? He assumed she'd receive staunch support from the women,
especially from his aunt and Miss Edna over at the store; although the Quilt
Ladies could be a problem if they decided the doctor didn't match their
old-fashioned image of womanhood. But it was the men of the Grove who would be
hardest to bring around. Hell, if Nate himself had such little faith in her, he
could imagine the grief she'd receive from some of his male neighbors. In fact,
the debates had probably already begun with the news of her arrival. He would
have to remain neutral in order to be fair to both sides. Even though he had
his opinion, it would not be right for him to influence the others.

Nate still held fast to his belief that
she would be gone before the first winter snow. She was from San Francisco, for
heaven's sake. However, if her success here depended on sheer will and
determination, she'd win hands down. He truly believed most females would not
have had the gumption to confront him as she'd done in town today, and none
would have gone so far as to shoot a hole in his hat. He dearly hoped Magic
would not become too attached to the good doctor, because the two of them
together would only bring trouble. More importantly, he didn't want Magic to be
heartbroken when the doctor pulled up stakes and high-tailed it back to San
Francisco.

V
ery early the next morning, a pounding on the door awakened Vivid
from a sound sleep. Stumbling from the cot, she stuck her arms into her robe
and crossed the plank floor to the door. She expected to find someone in need
of medical assistance or maybe Nate Grayson; what she found was a brawl in
full-swing in the yard. Men were everywhere; punching one another, violently
wrestling in the grass, standing nose to nose and arguing at the tops of their
lungs.

There were other men in the yard, too, all
dressed in their Sunday best and lined up as if waiting to purchase theater
tickets. In their hands were bunches of wild flowers, squawking chickens, hams,
and even animal pelts. Others were accompanied by goats or sad-faced children,
and one man held the lead to a spotted milk cow. Vivid could only stare,
amazed.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?"

The question came from a man standing on
the porch. He smiled kindly at her with a sparkle of mischief in his
smoke-black eyes. His handsomeness rivaled Nate Grayson's—in fact, the
two men looked enough alike to be brothers. "I'm Eli Grayson," he
said. "Abigail's son and Nate's cousin. You must be the new doc."

"Yes, I am. Dr. Viveca
Lancaster."

He shook her outstretched hand. "I
heard Nate threw a fit when you arrived. I also heard you shot his hat off his
head."

"Yes, he did. And yes, I did. But
tell me, what is all this?" she asked, indicating the chaos in her yard.

"They're deciding who gets to see you
first."

"What?"

“Where are you from, Dr. Lancaster?''

"California."

"Ah. Well, I don't know what this is
called in California, but here it's called courting."

Vivid stared. "Courting?"

"You're unmarried, or at least that's
the story going around. They think you'd make a good wife.''

Vivid looked over the men, some standing
triumphantly over opponents knocked out cold and prone. She couldn't decide
whether to be flattered or appalled. "Mr. Grayson—"

"Call me Eli."

"Eli, I didn't come here for a
husband," she explained with a hint of exasperation. "I'm here to be
a physician."

To her surprise, he pulled out a small
sheaf of papers and a pencil. "Can I quote you on that? I run the
newspaper."

Before she could answer, the drama in the
yard took on new proportions as a rifle went off. In the resulting silence, not
even the birds dared sing.

Rifle in hand, Nate Grayson, dressed in
his trousers and without a shirt, turned a malevolent look on the crowd and
shouted, "What the hell's going on here?"

Eli stepped down from the porch and said,
"They're all here to see Dr. Lancaster, Nate. Can't say as I blame them.
Look at her. I'm thinking about stepping in a bear trap myself."

The gaze Nate turned on Vivid would have
sent any other woman running back into the cabin. She knew he would consider
this display a prime example of why she was unsuitable, but Vivid was not
responsible in any way and refused to allow him to blame her. Vivid stepped
into the yard. Ignoring Nate Grayson, she said in a loud voice,
"Gentlemen, I am only going to say this once. I am here to be your doctor.
I am not seeking a husband. Do not court me. Now, anyone needing medical assistance
may stay. The rest of you, go back to your homes."

There was a bit of grumbling and a few
disgruntled faces, but they complied. After she took care of the few men with
cuts and bruises, she was ready to contend with the Grayson cousins.

Vivid turned to Eli and said, "I
would appreciate it if you would not write about this in your paper."

"You're news, Dr. Lancaster. The size
of the crowd alone attests to that."

"I didn't come here for a husband,
Mr. Grayson, just to practice medicine."

"Then practice it wearing something
other than your nightgown, Lancaster," Nate snapped, stepping up on the
porch. His worse fears had come true. Once word got around about her beauty and
lack of husband, men and lumber beasts from as far away as Saginaw and Muskegon
would descend on the Grove in droves to court her.

Vivid looked down at herself. She'd
forgotten her state of dress when all this began, but her gown was not a
revealing one. She sensed part of his temper could be traced to the melee in
the yard, but she vowed to keep her retorts to herself. Grayson held her future
in his hands. It would not do to have herself dismissed and escorted to the
train station over an issue she considered trivial. With him, she would have to
pick her battles. "You're correct, Mr. Grayson. The next time someone
comes pounding at my door, I will make certain I am dressed properly. I only
hope a seriously wounded patient won't mind bleeding to death while waiting for
me to comply with your wishes."

Eli chuckled, "Dr. Lancaster, the Grove's
going to enjoy having you here."

Nate turned to his cousin and asked
coolly, "When did you get back?"

"Last night. And don't worry, I won't
be here long. I'll be heading for the Centennial in Philadelphia in a few
weeks."

"Good. Stay out of my way."

Vivid could almost touch the tension
between the two cousins as they glared at each other. She'd no idea what lay
between them, but she had had enough brawling for one morning, so she told
them, "If you two cocks are going to fight, do it elsewhere, please."

Eli spoke first, "Nate's the one
spoiling for a fight, aren't you, cousin?"

“You keep printing that hogwash in that
rag you call a paper and there's going to be more than spoiling."

Nate turned angrily and took off across
the grass.

"You'll have to forgive his manners,
Dr. Lancaster," Eli said. "He and I are having a political
disagreement of sorts. He's always right and I'm always wrong."

Vivid silently watched Nate until he
disappeared through the line of trees that separated the cabin from the main house.
"What do you mean?"

"I'm a registered Democrat."

Vivid turned to him and stared. "A
Democrat! You are jesting with me?"

"No."

Vivid, thinking about the terror in the
South, said quietly, "Some folks would say your cousin has a right to be
angry."

"I agree, but the Republicans have
done nothing but betray us."

Vivid knew about the debate raging
nationwide over which political party deserved the Black vote in the upcoming
presidential election. But to be a Democrat?