Dodd wasn’t sure he wanted to go into the hotel cafe and order breakfast at nine o’clock in the morning. He was embarrassed. Anyone who slept until nine o’clock in this part of the country was either an eastern dude or a drunk.
He decided to skip breakfast even though he was quite hungry. He had left the Rokers’ place four days earlier, had eaten mostly beans and jerky, and in the last two days hadn’t even taken the time to cook beans. He had wanted to get to Carson City. It was almost midnight when he arrived at the hotel. He had to roust a very drunk desk clerk out of the saloon and it was well after one in the morning before he got to bed.
Even then, he had not slept well. His room was right above the saloon and it must have been four or five before that place settled down. But it was the first night he’d really slept in a bed since Uncle Henry’s and that one night had been the first time in almost a year. The bunks in both the shack and the bunkhouse were rough boards on which one threw a bedroll. Of course, there were those nights at the Rokers’ after Pete got hurt. There had been a bed available but Dodd had spent most of those nights in a chair beside Pete’s bed, dozing, but mostly worrying over the boy. And there was the night after Lawton. Dodd had been in a bed but he remembered nothing about it. Thinking about that night now, all he could remember was his pain at Pete’s anguish. He had slept in what they called a bed when he was working at Laker’s, but calling that a bed took a tremendous stretch of the imagination.
At the hotel he had a feather bed, clean and soft and oh, so comfortable. Once he got to sleep… well, he certainly hadn’t gotten up at an hour considered decent for an adult male in Carson City, Nevada in 1869.
Dodd, as he dressed, became embarrassed, a little angry and more than a little surprised at himself. In his waking-up drowsiness, he felt he had reverted to his Harvard-based insecurity. Fully awake, he found himself laughing out loud at himself. He knew that he didn’t really care what the Carson City folks might think. He cared about what Elizabeth might think. He had laughed at the addlebrained antics and uncertainties of his brothers when they were courting and now he laughed at his own.
The coffee was delicious. The eggs, steak and potatoes were more satisfying than the fancy lace tablecloth and fine china dinners he’d had in Boston. There were few patrons in the cafe that time of morning and it was obvious that their stares had more to do with wondering who this stranger was than why he was eating breakfast at that time of morning.
Dodd might laugh at his worries but they were real. He probably should have written and let Elizabeth know he was coming. He was sure now that’s what he should have done. When he’d thought about it, and it was about all he thought about—that and losing Pete—those last few weeks at Roker’s, he decided he’d rather just drop in on Elizabeth. If he wrote, it would have been too easy for Elizabeth to write back and tell him not to come. If he were right there, facing her, she couldn’t tell him to just go away. Could she?
But now that he was there, he wished that he’d written. Elizabeth would surely see his barging in on her as very presumptuous and extremely rude. He’d been a fool—he knew that now—but he saw himself as helpless to be otherwise. He was in love. At least, he thought he was. He’d watched his brothers court. He’d watched friends at Harvard court. He knew very well that a man in love acted like a fool. He sighed and shrugged. Every man he’d ever known who was in love acted like a fool. Why should he be any different?
He may have been a fool but he could at least act with some sense now. He’d send Elizabeth a note. He’d invite her to dinner that evening. He’d apologize for not writing and he’d take his chances. He might be a fool in love but he was not a complete fool.
The voice was shrill and boyish. It was coming from the saloon. For a brief instant he thought it was Pete and a rush of adrenaline jerked him to his feet because there was fear and urgency in the voice. But he then remembered that he didn’t have Pete to protect anymore and he felt appallingly empty.
“Where’s Doc Bloom? Teacher wants the Doc right now. Got a girl over to the school real bad hurt.”
The whiskey-rasped voice of one of the town drunks responded.
“It’s the middle of the morning, you dumb little shit. Doc’s in his office. He don’t start his drinkin’ till after supper. What the hell you doin’ at the school anyway? School’s out.”
“I come to help the teacher clean up. Riva come to see could teacher help her. She’s all beat-up. She looks real bad hurt and Doc Bloom ain’t in his office. I been there lookin’.” There were tears now mixed with the fear and urgency in the boy’s voice. “Teacher said to hurry.”
“I’m a doctor, son. I think I can help you.”
The boy looked quizzically at Dodd. He was just a little younger than Pete, about Ervin’s age. The teacher had told him to get Doc Bloom and he’d been taught at home to always do as he was told and exactly as he was told.
“You ain’t Doc Bloom.”
“No, but I am a doctor. Looks like you’ll have to settle for me.”
“But teacher said…”
“Son, I’ll straighten it out with your teacher. Just let me run up to my room and get my bag. If that girl’s hurt as badly as you say, we can’t waste time looking for Doc Bloom. Just wait right there. I’ll be right down.
Still not sure he was doing the right thing, the boy was, however, somewhat relieved to see Dodd come down the stairs with the same kind of bag he’d seen Doc Bloom carrying. He took Dodd’s hand and pulled him out the door and toward the school building.
They stood looking at each other. For just a moment the needs of the little girl were forgotten.
“Elizabeth?”
“Dodd?”
“What are you doing teaching school? Your letters said you were reading the law.”
“I’m a woman, Dodd, and this is frontier Nevada. What do you think I’m doing teaching school? Anyway, I read the law on my own. Vassar has no formal law school. No woman has ever been graduated as a lawyer in this country. I know the law well enough that I passed the Bar here in Nevada but women teach school or just have babies. I have never had a case brought to me.
“I’ve heard that there is a woman in Chicago who will graduate as a lawyer next year. Perhaps someday I’ll have a chance to practice. What are you doing here?”
There was a hint of hope in her voice but that quickly faded. “Oh, of course. You came to see your brother.”
Dodd heard that hint of hope and was thrilled but now was not the time to pursue the subject. “You know I studied medicine. I’m here to look at that little girl.”
The child was young, perhaps eight or nine. She had bruises on her arms and legs. Her face was bruised and swollen, one eye swollen shut. Dodd gently took the child’s left arm in his hand.
“Is it?” Elizabeth ask.
“Yes. It looks and feels like it’s been twisted. Both bones are broken. Does Doc Bloom have a surgery? I’ll need to open this up to set it properly and I’ll…”
The voice from the doorway was the small voice of a child but filled with venom. “You just leave her be. She just got what she had comin’. She back-talked my pa. He took the cane to her and flung her out the door. She ain’t yours to worry about and she’s got to learn that that ain’t no way for a damn orphan to be talkin’ to her betters. She’s ours. We paid good money for her. You just leave her be! Riva, you get on home. Pa’ll wear you out again don’t you. Levi went to the mine to get him.”
The girl doing the talking looked to be about the same age as Dodd’s patient. She was dirty, shabbily dressed, barefooted with unkempt hair and a smell that indicated that she knew very little about bathtubs. The venom in her voice now was matched by the fire in her eyes. The fact that Dodd was a big, powerful man meant nothing to her. She threatened him as if he were another child. “You’ll just leave her be if you know what’s good for you.”
Elizabeth whispered, “She’s an orphan, bound out to a roughneck, drunken miner. His wife was kicked by a horse and killed about a year ago and this child does most of the work around the place. She’s so small she can’t keep up and as you can see, the other children are made to do nothing, not even keep themselves clean.”
Elizabeth nodded toward the angry girl, eyes flashing, joined now by three more pairs of anger filled eyes, two smaller girls who appeared to be twins and, the youngest, a boy who looked to be about six. They too were filthy and Dodd wondered how the children who had to sit near them could tolerate the odor.
“Levi is their older brother. Pick Fillion, their father, is a brute of a man, Dodd. I think we should just leave it go. He’ll kill you.”
“Get the sheriff.”
“You don’t know this town. Bob Quinlen runs the county orphanage and the sheriff and the judge are all in this. I can’t get anyone to look into it, partly because some seem afraid. I’m not sure of what, but something’s going on. I can’t get anyone with any community clout to look into it. They just don’t care, but I’m convinced that Quinlen literally sells these children and for much more than he gives back to the county. And I don’t know what happens to some of the children. Many are let out, as they call it, with local people but some are in school one day and completely gone the next. When I ask, I’m told that Bob Quinlen is in charge of the children and it’s none of my business. Dad agrees. It frustrates and infuriates me but I can do nothing. People who bought the children won’t speak up because they’ll lose their cheap help. Some of the money is given to the county, but I’m sure he keeps most of it for himself and that the sheriff and the judge get a share.
“Even out here, what Quinlen is doing is a crime and if it were not for the complicity of the local law, he could not do it. I’ve talked to Dad. I’ve talked to your brother, Josh. They say they don’t see a problem. They don’t believe the sheriff and the judge are being paid off. They say they know most of the financial dealings in this county and they’d know if something like that were going on.
“Dad says that living in a home is better than living in an orphanage and county taxes raised the children. There’s no reason why some of that money shouldn’t be returned to the county by the people who have the use of the children’s labor when they’re old enough to work. He’s sure those who disappear are well cared for. All I could do is convince him to pressure the judge into requiring that the children be in school until they’re thirteen.
“When I tell him the children are bruised, he says, ‘Well, they’re difficult children and they need discipline. A few bruises’, he says, ‘never hurt anybody.’
“But I’ve never seen any of them beaten quite this badly and it breaks my heart but, Dodd, you just better leave her alone.”
“The child’s hurt, Elizabeth, and she is going to be treated.” There was an edge of sharp firmness to Dodd’s voice that almost offended Elizabeth. She had never allowed herself to be spoken to in that way. But she also saw something about the little girl kindled strong feeling in Dodd and a kind of compassionate resolve that vaguely explained his sharpness but did not assuage her concern for him.
“Do you have a gun?”
“I left it in the hotel.”
“Pick will kill you, Dodd. Please!”
Dodd gently picked up the little girl and carried her out the door. “Where’s Doc Bloom’s office?”
“Please, Dodd!”
Elizabeth saw that Dodd was determined, that no amount of additional pleading from her would deter him. She breathed a sigh of futility, caught up with him and directed him toward the doctor’s office. The Fillion children, fearful of their father’s wrath and imagining the horror and possible death it would cause, ran for home. They had seen their mother killed. They didn’t want to see this.
“Does he lock it when he’s gone?”
“I don’t know. I doubt it.”
The voice had a nasal twang but was gruff and mean. It was deep south but not the smooth dulcet tones of Georgia or Alabama. It was Louisiana Cajun and it reeked of defiance, condescension, and hatred. “You want your gizzard cut out, eh? Where in hell you think you goin’ with my bound-girl?
Dodd kept walking. “The laws of the United States did away with slavery in 1863. Nevada became a state in 1864 and is subject to those laws.”
It was a different voice. “That girl ain’t a slave. She’s just been let out like is done all over…”
Dodd interrupted, “Indenturing has been illegal for almost one hundred years so I don’t care what you call it. It’s slavery.”
“Hell, boy, they sendin’ trainloads of young ’uns from the east I hear tell. That’s where all them big shot lawmakers is. They ought to know what’s law and what ain’t. They sendin’ them and some folks down in Texas is takin’ ’em in and puttin’ them to work. I reckon them folks must be payin’ for gettin’ them young ’uns. Can’t think anybody be fool enough not to make a profit off ’en them. If folks in the east is sellin’ them young ’uns ain’t no cause we shouldn’t. Folks around here been feedin’ and beddin’ them orphans since they was babies. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with the county gettin’ some of its money back.
“Put the girl down. If’n it is U. S. law, I never heard tell of it and ain’t no U. S. Marshall here to make it stick nohow. Till they is, I’m the law and I say leave the girl be.”
Dodd continued following Elizabeth who, caught up in whatever was driving Dodd, seemed as determined as he was. Dodd felt someone grab his arm. “Don’t you hear good, boy?”
“Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth turned and Dodd handed the girl to her, turned and faced the three men and the boy following him. The boy was obviously Levi Fillion. One of the men wore a sheriff’s badge. One, obviously the judge, was dressed in a worn wool suit and stovepipe hat. The suit was too warm for the season and the hat long out of style. The third man was obviously Pick. From ten feet away it was easy to tell that he had the same unfamiliarity with a bathtub as did his children.
“Who the hell are you, boy?” The sheriff used a mock sympathetic tone trying to show that this poor fool had no idea with whom he was dealing.
“I’m a doctor and I’m going to treat this girl. She has a broken arm.”
“You teched, boy? I told you to put her down. ’Round here folks do what Pick Fillion tells them to do. ’Side ’a that, she’s mine. Judge Butler, here, said that and I’m still payin’ on her. That arm ain’t hurt that bad and she’s got work to do. Can’t be havin’ her layin’ around with no broke arm. ’Side ’a that, I ain’t got no money for doctorin’.”
“The arm is broken and I’m not charging.”
It wasn’t hard to tell where Pick Fillion’s children learned to fill their eyes with hate. Pick’s eyes blazed as he moved toward Dodd. Pick’s swing was of the roundhouse variety used by drunken saloon fighters. Dodd’s Harvard boxing allowed him to easily elude Pick’s wild swing, plant a solid jab in Pick’s belly and a hard hook to Pick’s jaw. Pick went down like he’d been shot.
Levi’s eyes buldged. His pa was the toughest man in Carson City. Levi had taken pride in that fact and had used it to become the school bully. It was partly his loss of status but mostly shock and worry about his unconscious pa that caused the boy to burst into tears, which were accompanied with loud wails and cursing.
“Sorry about your pa, Levi, but I do intend to take care of this little girl.”
Levi stood in silent wonder, too confused, now, to continue his angry commotion. How did this stranger know his name?
The sheriff, too, surprised at Pick’s current repose, needed a few moments to assemble his wits. When he had them all together, he drew his pistol, pointed it at Dodd and said, “Son, you seem to be a damn slow learner. I reckon I’ll lock you up over to the jail so you can’t run off and I’ll have time to tell you real slow so you’ll understand.
“Miss Elizabeth, you just put the girl down and let Levi, here, take her on home. If Pick thought she needed doctorin’ he’d ’a seen to it she got it. You’d best just stick to you’re school teachin’ and not be stickin’ your nose in other folks’ business. Never did hold with them orphans bein’ sent to school. What the hell they need learnin’ for? They ought to be workin’ for their keep ’stead of livin’ off decent folks.”
“Take the girl on over to the doctor’s office, Elizabeth. I’ll be there soon.” Dodd’s eyes burned into the sheriff’s and held him transfixed for just a moment. Then he did as Dodd hoped he’d do. He moved toward Dodd, raised his arm with the intention of pistol whipping him. Dodd grabbed the upraised wrist, planted a fist in the flabby stomach just above the gun-belt buckle and with a whirl of his body, holding tightly to the sheriff’s arm, caused him to do a complete flip in the air and land with a thud on his back.
While the sheriff gasped for breath, Dodd picked up his gun, tucked it his belt, leaned over the sheriff, turned him onto his stomach, and lifted him by his belt. Dodd understood the physiology of the maneuver but all the sheriff knew was that it allowed him to catch his breath.
He rolled to a sitting position, scratched his head and said, “Reckon you are gonna treat that girl. Can I have my gun back?”
Dodd extended his hand and helped the sheriff to his feet, surprised but suspicious at his now jovial nature.
“If you don’t mind too much, I think I’ll just keep it until I get finished with the girl.”
“You must be some hell of a one-handed doctor. You plan to hold that gun on me while you’re fixin’ that arm? I can go on over to my office and get another one, you know. You can treat the girl. I’ll leave you be.”
Dodd wasn’t sure if he should trust the sheriff but the decision was made for him. The man’s voice coming from his left was familiar and a joy to hear. “Give it to him, Dodd. He won’t bother you anymore. You sure do know how to make an impression on a new town, don’t you? You whipped the town bully, scared his boy half to death, made a fool of the sheriff and flabbergasted the judge all in about five minutes. Did they teach you that at Harvard?”
Two well dressed men walked toward them. One, the very tall one, he recognized as Herbert Hatcher, Elizabeth’s father and the President of the Carson City branch of the Forrest Banking and Silver Exchange Company. The other, the one who had done the talking, was the manager of the Carson City division of the Luke Forrest and Sons Silver Mining Company—his brother, Josh.
Dodd handed the gun to the sheriff. The sheriff, the judge, the now conscious Pick Fillion and the still stunned Levi stood in open-mouthed wonder as this brash stranger and the wealthiest and most influential man in Carson City stood embracing in the middle of the street.
Dodd was pleasantly surprised at the cleanliness and equipment he found in Doc Bloom’s office. He had taken the girl from Elizabeth, carried her to the office and he now laid her on the examining table. It was obvious that Doc did surgery and that he kept up with current developments in the field. He had instruments that had not been developed until Dodd was taking his training.
Dodd had even found disinfecting soap and began a lengthy washing of his hands. He had gathered from what the saloon drunk had said that Doc was a drunk but if he was, he was an intelligent and progressive drunk.
“You’ll have to help me, Elizabeth. See if you can find something to put over your dress. This will get a little bloody.”
“Dodd, I want to help but I may not be able to. All my life I have gotten ill at the sight of blood. I will probably pass out. Can you wait until I find someone not affected as I?”
The man’s voice was lighthearted and good-natured and immediately recognized by Elizabeth as that of Doc Bloom. “I think I could handle it. I’ve become somewhat accustomed to the sight of blood.”
“I’m sorry, Doctor. This girl needs immediately attention and no one knew where you were. You go ahead. I’ll assist you if you wish.”
“Oh, no, sir. You go right ahead. I hear that those who get in your way when you have your mind set meet with swift and unfortunate accidents. I value my hide, Doctor Forrest, and would be the last to interfere with your intentions. Beside that, sir, I want to see how a Harvard-trained doctor works. I just might learn something.”
Dodd was taken with the man. He had an easy, witty manner and, it soon became apparent, a searching and keen mind. Doc Bloom had indeed kept up with current medical knowledge. Dodd was ready to use laudanum to put the child to sleep but Doc Bloom suggested they use ether. Dodd was pleasantly surprised. Ether’s effectiveness as an anesthesia had been discovered quite by accident in 1842 by an American doctor, Crawford W. Long, and was used extensively in the east but Dodd didn’t expect it to find it on the frontier. Doc Bloom had learned of it while a military surgeon during the War Between the States and Dodd had used it in hospitals during his training. Dodd did not carry it because it was highly flammable, which made it dangerous to carry around and its tendency to evaporate quickly made it impractical and expensive. Ether’s anesthetic value was greater than laudanum and Dodd was pleased that it was available. He really didn’t like to give opium to little children.
The break was bad but the girl still had the elastic bones of a child so while the bones were twisted, they were more torn than broken. All the pieces had stayed attached in some way so there were no loose fragments. It was merely a matter of reversing the twist and laying the loose ends back in place as one would a jigsaw puzzle. The break was on the girl’s forearm and she was a frail child so there was not much muscle to cut through and blood loss was held to a minimum. The whole procedure took about twenty minutes and Doc Bloom was very interested in the stitching knots Dodd used.
“I’ve never tried to open a broken arm. That girl is fortunate you were here. I would have tried to set it blind and she would have had very little use of it. How did you know where to cut and not hit a vein or an artery?”
“We worked on cadavers and were thoroughly drilled in anatomy. You probably noticed that the girl is so frail that the blue veins could be seen through her skin and I’m sure you know where the brachial artery is.
“Do you see many of these orphans? Are they all this poorly nourished?”
“No. If they get sick or hurt, they die. Folks don’t spend money on doctoring an orphan.
“Pick Fillion’s outside waiting for his bound-girl. You going to beat him up again?”
“I hope that’s not necessary but the girl’s not going back to him.”
“Well, you watch him. He’s not much of a hand with a gun but he uses his frog-sticker almost as well as you use a scalpel.”
“He looks like the kind you can satisfy with money.”
“That might work as far as the girl’s concerned, but you’ve got a bigger problem. You whipped him and that’s all over town by now, I’m sure. He’s got some face to save and he just might try to do that by sticking that blade of his between your ribs.
“Are you going to stay in town? There’s plenty of work here for both of us and you can work out of this office if you’d like.”
“I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I just came to town to see my brother.”
“And Elizabeth Hatcher?”
“Is that all over town, too?”
“Folks are speculating. I got that information before I was told how you handled Pick and the sheriff. The sheriff won’t take offense but Pick won’t forget.”
Dodd strapped on the belt that held his gun and knife which Elizabeth had retrieved for him from the hotel. “I don’t forget that easily either.”
“I want my girl.” Pick was leaning against the hitching rail.
Dodd said nothing but almost before the words were out of Pick’s mouth, the point of Dodd’s knife was buried in the tie rail of the hitching rack, a fraction of an inch from Pick’s hand. Dodd, his hand now resting on the butt of his gun, said, “You’re going to have to learn to get along without her. She’s not going back to you—ever. I’ll pay you your bound fee. You don’t need that girl anyway. All the young ’uns you have, save your money and put them to work.”
Dodd had gotten his point across with the knife. His speed and accuracy had the same effect on Pick they had had on Laker. Pick’s tone was almost respectful.
“My young ’uns’ mama was a she-bear, mean and stubborn—full of sass. It were her sass what made me take to her. I reckoned she was some like me and she was. We was a pair, I’ll tell you. Both mean drunks—fought like cougars but loved like I hear tell lions do. We was always at each other, either beatin’ the shit or lovin’ the hell out of each other. “She throwed young ’uns faster than a damn rabbit. The ones you seen is just the ones what lived. Can’t even remember how many died. Five or six, I reckon. Wasn’t none of then lived till she quit drinkin’ so much. Just some past ten year ago, we finally got us a boy what stayed alive. I give him my name, Levi, but ain’t nobody better call me that.
“Them what lived growed to be just like their mama. I got tired of their sass and I was plumb scared I was gonna kill one of them from whippin’ on them.
“It were their mama’s meanness got her kilt. She was beatin’ on that horse with a broke fence rail. Damn horse had all he wanted to take. He was new-shod and one of them cleats caught her just so he took the top of her head clean off. One good thing come from that, I reckon. She had brains. I seen them. I’d wondered about that long as I knowed her.
“But, hell, I can’t be too hard on her. I ain’t that much myself. I know that. I’m a damn drunk and almost anything sets me off like a keg of black power. But I try to do for them young ’uns. I work hard. Hell, I’m the best man with a pick in the whole damn mine. I got my name from that. But I can’t do right by ’em. Their sass and fussin’ at each other sets me off.
“I cut a lot of men. Kilt some. Didn’t think nothin’ of it. But I take it real hard when I hurt one of my young ’uns. Just can’t stop myself, so I figured I’d get me one at the orphanage wouldn’t give me so much sass, but I ain’t got no luck. This one must have been throwed by a she-bear too. Cost me a hundred dollars and she’s almost as bad as the rest of them. Still owe Quinlen seventy-five.”
“Here’s fifty. Keep it. I’ll take care of Quinlen. And, Mr. Fillion, you’re a very strong man. Our fight wasn’t exactly fair. I learned prize fighting when I was studying medicine. You will never be able to beat me in a fist fight but I hear you’re partial to knife fights. You seen I know some about knife fighting too, but talk is you aren’t particular if you cut a man’s front or back.
“Now you listen real good. I have nine brothers, Mr. Fillion. You know Josh. You know me. The others are just as tough and we all have very long memories. And—oh, yes, our Pa is Luke Forrest. You’d best hope real hard that I stay alive. Do you take my meaning?”
Pick nodded, pulled Dodd’s knife from the hitching rack, handed it back to him and said, “You ain’t got to worry none about me. You’re the first man since my pa to whip me, but for some cause it don’t rile me. Ain’t sure why. Think maybe it’s ’cause I ain’t proud of what I done to that girl.” Pick turned and walked off down the street.
It felt strange to Dodd, sitting in the palatial dining room of his brother’s home. He had gotten used to this type dining while in Boston but the last year was mostly beans and fat back and gritty sand, leaning against a wagon wheel or a saddle. Comfortable chairs, fine china and lace tablecloths were fine, he guessed, but he’d survived very well without them, thank you. He did have to admit, however, that this fine roast of beef was much preferred to gritty beans.
He was, perhaps, overly concerned about his table manners. Table manners don’t count for much on the range but he was sitting right beside Elizabeth. Herbert and Sarah Hatcher sat across from them, and Josh and his wife, Lillian, sat at the head and foot of the table. There was a jovial, relaxed atmosphere in the room but Dodd was tense. He didn’t want to appear a fool or a boor to Elizabeth. He tried to relax but he couldn’t feel relaxed. He just hoped he was projecting as calm an image as Elizabeth was but how do you know how you’re acting when you’re in love? He even thought that Elizabeth was sensing his uneasiness and enjoying it. He wasn’t sure about that. He wasn’t sure about anything right now.
Herbert Hatcher’s hearty laugh and his brother’s wit began to help Dodd relax. “I thought I’d die laughing when I saw Bill Thorn flying through the air like that. How did you do that Dodd?”
“It’s an Oriental technique called jujitsu. It’s based on leverage and surprise.”
“Is there anything you didn’t learn at Harvard, little brother?”
“I don’t think I learned proper manners. I should have written to Elizabeth and told her I was coming.”
“You mean you didn’t come just to see me?”
Lillian Forrest, accustomed to but still occasionally exasperated by her husband’s flippancy said, “Leave them alone, Josh. You’re embarrassing Elizabeth.”
Herbert Hatcher’s voice was as full and deep as the man was big and his laugh exploded like dynamite. “Look at that face on you, Bet. I don’t think I’ve seen it that red since that time you caught your bloomers on a twig and took the whole back of them out, when you were ten.”
“Herbert, that’s not the sort of thing to talk about in mixed company, particularly when Elizabeth has her young man here.”
“The man’s a doctor, Sarah. He knows what a female’s got back there.”
“Dodd, as you can tell, you don’t have to worry about your manners. I just wish my father would learn a few. I’m glad you’ve come. I would have written myself but no one seemed to know where you were.”
Josh was ten years older than Dodd and had always been such a tease that often, in his childhood, Dodd did not know whether he was amused or miserable. Dodd saw now that Josh hadn’t changed a bit. “I know these women, Dodd. She’s not glad you’re here. She just doesn’t want to get thrown around like a rag doll.” Both Josh and Herbert roared with laughter.
“This is a fine meal, Lillian, and you have a lovely home. Do you remember how much that bay window cost?”
“Why, Dodd, you have forgotten your manners. I taught you when you were ten, right after Josh and I were married, that you don’t ask personal questions like that.”
“I am sorry, Lillian, but I do need to know. You see, if your husband doesn’t stop embarrassing Miss Elizabeth here, I’ll have to throw him through it. I’ll need to know how much it will cost me to replace it.”
Their father’s and Herbert Hatcher’s laughter brought the four young Forrests from the kitchen. They were handsome boys and had been thrilled to see their Uncle Dodd that afternoon. There had been some frolicking but mostly there were questions. By the time they were called to clean up for supper, there were few details they didn’t know about their new cousins, Pete and Ervin. Joshua, the oldest, just turned thirteen, was particularly pleased. His place as the oldest grandson in the Forrest family had not been usurped. He had nine older girl cousins but it was a matter of deep pride to him that he was the oldest boy.
The boys were assured by their mother that the jokes were adult jokes that they would not appreciate and rushed back into the kitchen. On a less formal occasion, the boys would have eaten with the family but they knew well that when the china with roses on it came out they’d be relegated to the kitchen.
“How does Sim feel about you having all the boys?”
“He’s offered to trade me two for one, but the truth is it would be like fighting the devil to take one of those girls from him. We all love our children but Sim loves his like he does everything else—to the extreme. Other than Dad, I’ve never seen a man dote on his children like our brother Sim does.
“Funny how these things work out. We were ten boys at home but Scamper had four girls, John had two, James had two, and Sam had one before Dad got his first grandson. I was going to name Joshua ‘Luke’ but Scamper said that was his name and he wanted it. He said he was going to name his first son after Dad—even if he had to fill his house with girls before he got his boy. He didn’t have to quite fill it up. He got Lukie on the sixth try.”
“Sarah wanted to know, “Where did Luke junior get that nickname?”
“Dad gave it to him. They needed a name to tell the two apart and dad said he scampered around like whirlwind as soon as he was able to crawl. The man’s almost fifty and still can’t sit still.
“Dad doted on all children and when his first was born, Mama said, he took delight in everything that boy did. Mama said he’d sit in his chair of an evening and get so tickled at Scamper’s scooting around so fast, he’d laugh until he had tears running down his face. It’s a good thing the man likes children. With ten to raise and thirty-four…” Josh looked at Dodd. “Thirty-six now, isn’t it?” Dodd nodded. “With thirty-six grandchildren, the man has plenty of doting material.”
Sarah continued, “There were ten of you? All boys? I didn’t know that. Are they all still here in Nevada?”
“No. James and Matt are in San Francisco running our bank and mining interests there. The rest of us are here. Scamper, John and Sam are with Dad on the home place. Together they own about fifty thousand adjoining acres. Eli, Jared and Sim have ranches within twenty miles of Dad’s. Jared and Sim live south and have about thirty thousand adjoining acres. Each owns half and they ranch separately.”
Dodd interrupted. “Jared has over twenty thousand now. He bought old man Whillit’s place.”
“When?”
“In the last few months, I guess. He just told me when I saw him at Roker’s.”
“Looks like if the Forrests keep up, they’ll own the whole of north central Nevada.”
“Jared said he has all he wants, and the last time I talked to Sim, he said that he doesn’t want to run any more cattle. He wants to breed fancy horses.”
“That’s foolish. There’s not that much of a market for fancy horses.”
“Well, you know Sim and his horses.”
Lillian said to Sarah, “It’s a good thing there are only two Forrests here. When they all get together, if you’re not a born Forrest, you might as well speak Russian for all the talking to you they do or the talking you get to do.”
Josh laughed. “Woman, if we each had a dollar an hour for our listening time, I’d be about ten thousand dollars ahead.”
“Well, when the ten of you aren’t together, I know I do a lot of talking but by the amount of listening you do, you’d be flat broke.”
Dodd joined in the hearty laughter. He was home again. Wit and lighthearted teasing had been the predominate atmosphere of his childhood and it felt good to be a part of it again.
Josh continued, “Sorry but I don’t understand. I can’t think of anything more interesting than what the Forrest clan is up to.”
Herbert Hatcher said, “I can. Watching grass grow.”
The burst of laughter again brought the boys running from the kitchen, the harried cook who had been given the additional assignment of watching the boys scurrying after them, gasping apologies to Lillian for her inability to keep the boys corralled. There was a short argument with Joshua. Lillian agreed that, yes he was almost a man so his mother needed him to help the cook keep an eye on his younger brothers. He could not stay with the adults. Joshua thought that was a pretty thin reason but he knew his mother well enough to know that further argument was futile.
The group fell silent, waiting for Josh to continue his story. Josh knew what they wanted but also sat silent, an innocent, questioning look on his face.
“Well,” Sarah said, “what’s the rest of it?”
“You’ll have to ask Lillian if I have permission to talk.”
The laughter brought another movement of the kitchen door. “No need to walk in here, boys. You’ll just turn around and walk back out. It’s about time for you to get to bed anyway.”
Joshua didn’t challenge his mother again but his mumbled grumble indicated his displeasure.
“That’s the Parkhurst in him. You’ll never hear a Forrest fuss like that.” More laughter.
“Finish, Josh.”
“Well, Joshua, the third oldest and the most handsome and intelligent, is a mining executive in Carson City, Nevada.” Josh paused, waiting for some retort from his wife.
Herbert, who laughed at anything, giggled so hard he shook the table. Though it was a struggle, the ladies did not laugh. Lillian said, “That’s not even worth a response.”
Josh threw her a pathetic glance and continued. “Eli has about twenty thousand acres north of Dad, and the youngest, Percival, is sitting right over there. He goes into towns and beats up on the local constabulary.”
That did get a laugh from all of them except Dodd. “Damn you, Josh. You know I hate that name.”
Elizabeth was surprised. “Is your name really Percival?”
“Yes, but if Mama’d had her way, it would have been Scamper’s and I wish it were. Mama’s father came from England. His name was Percival Doddson. She always wanted to name one of her boys after her father but Dad said a boy named Percival in Nevada wouldn’t make it to his tenth birthday so they compromised and used all Bible names. From what I’ve been told, Mama was sickly the whole time she was carrying me and she made Dad promise that if she died and I was a boy, to name me Percival Doddson Forrest. I don’t have a problem with the Doddson part. Part of the original name compromise was that all our middle names are Doddson. Dad kept his promise but the only time I was ever called, Percival was when those mean older brothers of mine were teasing me, and I want to keep it that way—except for the teasing, of course. Josh, if you want to keep your brothers healthy, you’d better tell them about my jujitsu.”
This time the laughter brought only five-year-old Caleb but there was no mood of levity in him. He went directly to his mama and with a loud, shocked whisper in her ear said, “Uncle Dodd said ‘damn’.”
The adults stifled their laughter so as not to embarrass the boy and he was assured by his mama that Uncle Dodd had, indeed, been thoroughly out of line.
Lillian got up from the table and herded the boys off to bed. The younger ones insisted that along with their mother and father, Uncle Dodd help tuck them in. All of them reveled in the hair tousling and the kiss they got from this much loved phantom uncle who they knew only from stories. Even Joshua, almost the man, relished his uncle’s show of affection but tried desperately not to show it.
The very worried Caleb insisted that Uncle Dodd hear his prayers which included a fervent, earnest plea for forgiveness for Uncle Dodd’s verbal transgression. Dodd, to rectify his blunder, also prayed. He admitted to God his sin, humbly asked forgiveness and promised that he would never do it again. A very relieved Caleb gave Dodd a big hug. “Now you can go to heaven,” he said.
Dodd’s presence made bedtime for the boys a little more hectic and drawn out than usual. Each thought of several excuses to have Dodd again pay them some attention and give them another goodnight kiss. It amused Dodd but it also hurt a little. He loved these nephews but he would have much rather have been kissing Pete goodnight.
They sat silently, Dodd in the physical presence of Elizabeth but his mind consumed by Pete. She sensed that he was not simply ignoring her, but that he was dealing with some private thought. She respected that, took his hand in hers and sat silently with him.
It was obvious now that all of Dodd’s worry had been for nothing. Elizabeth seemed as pleased to see him as he was to see her. They sat on the porch swing, quietly listening to the squeak of the chains and to the boisterous laughter inside the house. Lillian occasionally had to remind the men that the boys were trying to sleep but that only temporarily muffled the jocularity. Raucous good humor was too much a part of Herbert Hatcher and Josh Forrest.
“Let’s go for a walk. I can’t think with those two buffoons making so much noise. Was Josh always like that or did he learn it from Dad?”
“There was always a good deal of laughter in the Forrest house and Josh seemed usually to be the instigator. He was such a tease. I never knew if I was miserable or having fun when I was a boy. He was always after me.
“But he always had the biggest heart too. In that way, he’s a lot like Dad. He teased me unmercifully but he always looked out for me.”
Elizabeth thought she knew the reason for Dodd’s earlier pensiveness. She thought that having watched Lillian’s gentle, loving mothering had caused Dodd to remember some childhood pain at not having known a mother’s touch. “Was it really difficult without a mother?”
“Difficult? Perhaps one could call it that. I never knew her, but I thought of her frequently and I missed her. Because Dad is the way he is, I never doubted that I was loved but I have come to see a tenderness in a woman’s relationship with a child that, I think, is a necessary ingredient. I’m sure part of the reason for my restlessness this past year was because I missed that.
“Scamper’s wife, Leah, tried to mother me but I wouldn’t let her. Dad was my idol and as a very small child I interpreted his strength as toughness. I know now that I thought being mothered was an indication of weakness. I didn’t understand the difference between strength and arrogance. Leah did her best but I didn’t think I needed her. I didn’t know until I met Pete how much a boy needs a mother’s touch.
“I guess Lillian was as close to a mother as I would let any of them be. I was already adolescent when the others married and was not about to let them mother me. Jared’s wife, Libby, didn’t really try to mother me but she has a way about her that just exudes love. I don’t think she knows how much she meant to me or how much she confused me. She made me know I had missed something as a child but I wasn’t sure what it was and didn’t want to admit to myself that I’d missed anything. I didn’t really understand myself and I didn’t understand love until I got Pete.”
“Who is Pete?”
Pete was so much a part of Dodd’s world that he unconsciously assumed he was part of everyone’s. He had not had time to tell Elizabeth about Pete. As he did now, Elizabeth saw a love and tenderness—and hurt that moved her to quiet tears. Dodd loved that boy and the concern he expressed for children who had been raised as Pete had made her understand Dodd’s earlier peevishness and his determination to care for little Reva Potts that afternoon.
“You really do love that boy, don’t you, Dodd?”
“Yes. He, as much as anything I’ve done in my life, made a man of me. I miss him but he has good parents and a good home. But there are so many others like him and—the little girl. Elizabeth, you and I grew up thinking all children were cherished. My father would have died for me or any of my brothers just as yours would have for you. But when I saw how Pete was being treated, I knew for the first time that there was a very ugly side to this world I could not have imagined. I saw Pete beaten. I heard him called a child of the devil by the man who was supposed to be taking care of him. I had to help Pete and, yes, I grew to love him.
“But there are others. Doc Bloom says when an orphan is hurt or sick, people let them die. I don’t understand it and it makes me angry. I’m not sure what now, but sometime in my life, I’m going to do something about that.”
They walked silently, Dodd allowing the fervor of his emotion to abate and Elizabeth pondering this dimension in the man she had loved for ten years. She also, as she had for the past year, pondered the nature of that love. Did she love him as she loved her parents and the memory of the sister who had died when Elizabeth was five? Did she love him as Pete must have loved him or was her love a deeper, more romantic love—a love that would let her share herself and her life with him? Was he a dearly loved vicarious older brother or was he the man she wanted to be her husband? She didn’t know, and that troubled her.
She was more disturbed by her ambivalent feelings about having any husband right now. Oh, yes, eventually she wanted to be married and have a family but there was so much she wanted to do before accepting that responsibility. She loved the law, but she was a woman. She knew she could not stay in Carson City if she were to practice law. She would have to find her place, if there were such a place in 1869, and she could not ask a husband to make that search with her.
She was torn. She loved Dodd. She knew that. But what was the nature of that love? If Dodd was the man with whom she wanted to share her life, she did not want to lose him. But would he understand the need in her, the drive to do what she loved but what, so far as she knew, no woman had ever done? Would he think her a fool to want to practice law? Would he wait? Did she want him to?
Copyright © 2003 Gordon L. Klopfenstein